The Sunspire he held my hands above my head and i commenced to pray

Riley looked away while Praimfaya inspected him, a scowl dark enough to match the stormy horizon on his brow. He missed how the warrior seemed overcome with slight anxiety; his focus was elsewhere.

Irreversible. Yarrow. Something, something said -- but one thing abundantly clear: stay here.

Riley shrugged (while silent, he seemed obedient) and the woman was off; a silvery ghost among the downpour.

When she returned, she announced her intentions and began to chew the plants to a pulp between her jaws. Riley could smell the sluice and winced -- his gaze traveled up Praimfaya's throat, to her scars, to the sluice held in her mouth. "Will it sting?"