Arlon stood there with his hands in his pockets, looking up at the soft gradient of color in the sky. Pale blue shifting into gold.
And then, right on cue, the world shimmered.
A soft pulse in the air.
The kind of thing only someone like him would notice anymore.
The login.
Footsteps echoed lightly behind him. Familiar ones.
June had arrived.
She came down the inn's steps slowly, adjusting her coat as she walked, her hair slightly tousled from the transition.
Her eyes met his.
They didn't need to say anything for a second.
Arlon finally broke the silence. "Are you nervous?"
June gave a light snort, brushing some hair behind her ear.
"Of course I am," she said. "Aren't you?"
He nodded.
Simple. Honest.
Because, of course, he was.
As they stood there, side by side, Arlon's thoughts drifted back—unbidden—to Istarra.
To the ruins.
To the way the streets had crumbled under the feet of mindless Keldars. The smoke that never left the air. The emptiness.
