The silence that followed the closing of the rift was only a stolen respite. Loriel felt her muscles contract, a new tension born in her chest as she observed Konstantin, still on his knees. He raised his head toward her.
"On should hurry and get ourselves to Island Mist," he said, his voice barely more than a hoarse breath.
Loriel closed her eyelids for a fraction of a second. She felt her shoulder burning, the blood sticking to her tunic, her legs threatening to give way. But she knew. She knew they had no time to lose.
"I know..." she replied.
She stood up, her knees cracking under the effort, and unfurled her wings. The white feathers extended in a dull rustle, stained with blood and soot, but still powerful enough to cleave the air. She held out her hand to Konstantin, who seized it without hesitation.
