As two figures took form at its head.
And walked, unhindered, toward the city walls, darkness swarming around them.
Erawan. The golden-haired young man. She’d know it if she were blind.
A dark-haired, pale-skinned woman strode at his side, robes billowing around her on a phantom
wind.
“Maeve,” Lysandra breathed.
People began screaming then.