Blackfeather Woods my life and all seemed turned to clay

astara felt her lip quiver, an old fear settling in her bones as she sensed, rather than saw, a dark shade overcome them. she could hear between the chill the chattering of teeth, of indecipherable whispers -- and the rush of spirits moving between planes unseen.

moreover, she saw a change overcome averna -- her eyes trained on the spot where the daycub looked, transfixed -- astara felt a primal snarl loosen in her throat, and she sprung towards the daemon with teeth bared --stay the fuck away from my sister!

yet her teeth clinched around nothing; the girl fell to the ground, feeling a constrictive cold descend in her throat that cowed her temper, and forced her downwards.

distrustfully, the girl stared at the simmering shade that distorted their field of vision, a resentful growl still reverberating in her throat.