A shadow of a beard covered his cheeks and jaw, and dark hairs had sprouted across his shaven head. His eyes had lost their mark of spirit-possession, yet they still retained a haunted cast, for while the Vamilians were gone from his mind, when he now closed his eyes he saw the faces of those he had left behind in Majack. Were they ghosts now that they should appear to him like this? Or were they no more than his fears made manifest, a reminder of what he stood to lose if he failed? If they are not lost to me already. The trees closest to the dome had been cut to pieces by the magical construction to leave broken branches scattered across the ground. Any wind-borne leaves that came into contact with the dome burst into flames. Beyond, Ebon could make out the shapes of ruined buildings among the trees. All else was a blur. Vale moved to stand alongside him. There were dark bags beneath the Endorian’s eyes and an uncharacteristic slump to his shoulders. “Looks like someone doesn’t want us here.”
