Blackwater Islands You go back there when you’re done

rage set him alight at her words, a rippling heat-aura searing the air between them. he was fury and madness incarnate; voidfire given flesh and hellish cutting teeth.

blighted, too. the listener saw it in him as he stepped near and she felt the heat of his breath against her thin muzzle. he spoke of a curse, a spirit, a shadow. his shadow. the words were delicate icy tendrils up her spine, a shiver that gripped her in the chest and limbs for a few breathless seconds.

she thought of the skyrock. strange.

then we are the same, the prophet's voice was hushed. she leaned forward. her nose skimmed the fur of his muzzle, the fine prickle of his whiskers. i found power in my curse. perhaps there is power to be found in yours.