Sunspire Mountains And should the sky be filled with fire and smoke

rolling here!

Black lip would tug at the corners, pleased.

Orlaith pitched low to the earth; mirrored, while the accursed knight set sight then upon her limbs – constricted, coiled like a snake before unhinging jaws and submerging prey. He would survey with vigilance – azure, melded nefariously into pools of silver, of ice and lightning, streaks of luminescence to pierce gloom and reverie alike. The silencer began to stalk, to writhe a lean frame in the space around her own; he would besiege with shadows at his nape, only to then spring forward in attempt to unbalance her.

And he struck.

Their bodies collided harshly – doubtless, prompt, his shoulder propelled unto her own, jaws agape to snap in her direction.