As sundown washed the land in a delicate, ethereal shine, Seraphina and Azrael remained on the edge of a slope sitting above the evil spirit domain. The far off, spooky excellence of the reviled scene spread before them like an unpleasant embroidery. The breeze murmured insider facts of the past and future as it moved throughout the infertile trees.
Azrael clasped Seraphina's hand with his, their fingers interlacing. " This is the way that will lead us to the Pinnacle of Magic," he said, his voice a combination of assurance and dread. " The Pinnacle holds the way to breaking the revile that ties our adoration."
Seraphina gestured, her heart weighty with both apprehension and trust. " I've come this far, Azrael. I won't allow anything to stop us now."
