Rain drummed against the tower walls and streaked down the window. The storm outside howled without pause. The wind was strong enough to push the rain through every narrow opening on the buildings.
Archmage Sylmira stood before the tall window, her robe rippling with every gust that slipped through. The cold drops brushed her face but she barely noticed.
Her expression was rigid and her eyes looked distant with thought and worry. She clasped her hands tightly together. Her knuckles pale from the strain.
Behind her, Arty sat near the hearth with stacks of open books around her. The flicker of candlelight danced across her face as her eyes moved restlessly over the pages.
She was reading, or at least trying to. The truth was she couldn't stop thinking about the storm or about her brother.
Erend was far away, fighting in another dimension where the entity dwelled and the thought of it pressed heavily on her chest.
