Holding his stare with that relentless,
predatory focus, Manon gave the order to
move out. Northward.
Away from Morath. Dorian opened his
mouth, casting for anything to say, do, to
delay this departure. Short of snapping a
wyvern’s wing, there was nothing—
The witches turned toward the wyverns,
where Dorian would ride with one of the
sentinels for the next leg of this endless hunt.
But Abraxos roared, lunging for Manon with a
snap of teeth.
As Manon whirled, Dorian’s magic surged,
already lashing at the unseen foe.
A mighty white bear had risen from the
snow behind her.
Teeth flashing, it brought down its massive
paw. Manon ducked, rolling to the side, and
Dorian hurled out a wall of his magic—wind
and ice.
lily
(lily)
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