"What the hell is this?!" Irina said. "Hang in there, old friend!"
The leaves of the Tree of Life had withered, and almost the whole trunk had turned black. Black smoke was coming out of the trunk, and it smelled like death.
Irina was sitting cross-legged under the tree, pale from excessive use of magic.
A twig reached down and patted weakly on her back as if telling her to leave.
"No." Irina shook her head adamantly. "If I leave you behind and let you die, elves will be abandoned by the God of Life. I can't let that happen. I won't let that happen. Before Mother comes out of seclusion, it's up to me to protect you and the Wind Forest."
The tree creaked and groaned as if weeping.
…
Borg stood outside Irina's cave. The black lines on his face looked even more hideous in the moonlight. There was a black mass of mist around him, constantly changing shapes, as if alive. "Soon! Soon! Tonight, I'll make the Norland Continent bow down before my might!"
…
