The Black Cliff
remained hanging, allowing the girl to cling to the canvas, listening to the wind.
Chaos looked around. The wing seemed to him long abandoned, untidy. His wet footprints formed a path of dark spots, everything else was covered with a layer of dust and wind-blown dry foliage. The girl in the portrait looked familiar. Watching the unsuccessful attempts of Nocté, the newt hovered over her, clung to the frame and pulled to the side. The wood didn’t creak, the stone crumbs fell under their feet with a rustle. The portrait reluctantly moved aside, revealing a dark hole that breathed dampness and dust on the uninvited guests.
Without hesitation, Nocté knelt down and squeezed through first, and befo
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