Maea
It's not a demon at your door
Distracting herself with more gathering of fallen debris from the Tower, Maea stopped only when the bag she had been filling grew too heavy to lift on her own. With fire dancing around her in the shape of butterflies, she gave in to the pull of the Spire and warily approached the entrance. Not even the wimsy of her play with magic could entirely chase the cold dread it instilled in her. Coughing into the crook of her arm, phantom pain tore at her throat, constricting the lungs -
Maea froze on the threshold, stock still with barely a half foot over the threshold. If she listened hard she imagined she could hear the echo of bright voices coming from within - but in truth that may simply be wishful thinking. Hoping the others would be on their way back soon.
Maea froze on the threshold, stock still with barely a half foot over the threshold. If she listened hard she imagined she could hear the echo of bright voices coming from within - but in truth that may simply be wishful thinking. Hoping the others would be on their way back soon.
It's just your shadow on the floor
