A whisper of magic on the air lands on my tongue with a bitter aftertaste that lingers and prickles. With a sly glance, I allow my gaze to slink back to the little angel that shuffles across the floor, watching with a muted curiosity about what she might do.
She is the key to all this, she has to be.
A flurry of sparks run through Dawns finger tips, exuding a warm but fragile light into Delina's cold body as a jolt runs through her. All at once Delina's eyes snap open, red and searching, burning with the fires of confusion and a terrifying hatred for the instances that have gone on. She splutters a cough, then a gasp, her hand running to her throat, before she soon realises who exactly has been missing from the room.
I can tell it goes against every instinct in Dawn's bones not to scamper back to us as quick as a flash.
