The skies over Eldhollow were a thunderous canvas of storm and gloom, the winds whispering menace through the trees. Lightning split the night, illuminating two figures moving beneath heavy cloaks through the forgotten bush paths of the old district. Their steps were silent but sure. They stopped beneath the arches of an abandoned stone corridor, a haven swallowed by shadow.
One figure pulled back his hood slightly—tall, lean, eyes as sharp as fangs. Rhys Glenshade.
"She hasn't returned?" he asked, voice cold and edged with suspicion.
"She left for Dunbrae," the second figure replied. His tone was distant, distorted as if filtered through steel. A masked man whose face was hidden behind magical layers, his aura unreadable, his presence ghostlike.
Rhys narrowed his eyes. "I wasn't informed the girl possessed magic."
"She doesn't." the masked one said flatly.
