Gods and monsters and preternatural powers of all shades. And even at that, for all the fire leveled their way, for all the hundreds of blades arrayed against them, not one of their little band has spilled their lifeblood onto the snows. Precious few shields and so much fire and yet they have burned without being burned.
They've been so very lucky, haven't they?
It's a question of cost. Every prize carries a price.
Blaze is plowing ahead, barely remembering to glance back when she realizes she's pulled away from Natasha. Calling out to ask if she's all right.
The crow above them is gone when the spy looks back, but a low caw heralds a flutter near the ground. A different bird, a little smaller, sleek and dark-eyed as she perches on an arching tree root and stares up at Natasha from the shadows. The Magister's voice is low and rasping, "The time is come, Knight of the Court."
no subject
They've been so very lucky, haven't they?
It's a question of cost. Every prize carries a price.
Blaze is plowing ahead, barely remembering to glance back when she realizes she's pulled away from Natasha. Calling out to ask if she's all right.
The crow above them is gone when the spy looks back, but a low caw heralds a flutter near the ground. A different bird, a little smaller, sleek and dark-eyed as she perches on an arching tree root and stares up at Natasha from the shadows. The Magister's voice is low and rasping, "The time is come, Knight of the Court."