CRIMSON SKY
No comment is given, no questions asked as the two groups attack each other, throwing the clearing into a deeper chaos.
About twenty eight witches run fast through thick undergrowth led by Catherine, two of them support a pale looking Brea between them. Brea holds tightly to the World stone in her right hand, its light now weak, and the Heaven’s eye in her left which still lets out soft red swirling smoke.
“You should have left when you can,” Catherine hiss angrily.
“What kind of supreme mother will I be if I leave my people to their doom,” Brea mutters breathlessly. “A few more minutes and we would have returned magic back. Now the magic is so thin we cannot even take ourselves out of here.
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