Blackwater Islands thorn

this place; its darkness; it spoke to the seed of mayfair wrath still lodged in the back of lestan's head.
he paced, turned, whirled; his eyes searched even as his legs grew weaker.
"witch!"
in this, he did not waver, not in tone nor stance; "witch! i've come on behalf of reverie!"
panting; panic. "you owe her life." and then, he flung up his head, and shouted some horrid, feral sound that scoured his throat.