Through the rent stepped three figures.
Two males clad in leather coats - one tall and dark, one slim and blond; both carrying themselves with the unconscious easy authority and self-assurance of warriors long accustomed to battle.
The third figure was female in shape, but its demeanour spoke of otherness and its eyes were as old as time and chilly blue.
As the rift closed behind them, the figures looked around.
The blond one studied the landscape, identical sand dunes surrounding them on all sides.
“So... any idea where we’re going? Or are we going to blunder about like the lost children of Israel?”
The dark haired one sighed, then turned to the third member of the party.
“Illyria. This sorcerer we’re looking for is said to be very old, very powerful and fairly easy to sense...”
The blue entity closed her eyes and stood immobile for a while. Then her eyes snapped open.
“This way,” she said and set off across the sand.
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