Ray stood in the middle of Old Town Spring's dark streets, he had been looking for clues near the Ice House.
He had read from the report that some people had disappeared around there, but after hours of searching, he had found nothing.
Another dead end. He was tired of this mission that might as well have been non-mystic related.
Then he felt it.
A prickling sensation near the crown of his head, familiar and urgent, the spirits stirring where they always did when something was wrong.
He closed his eyes.
Flash.
A forest with dense and dark trees, a chalet with wooden walls and warm light spilling from windows and practitioners moving inside.
Flash.
Makun, frozen mid-air, axes swinging towards his hands, a man in black robes with his palm raised.
Flash.
Darkness. He could not see more.
Ray's eyes snapped open, his breath shallow, sweat beading at his temples.
