The black mist moved like a gale, swallowing the entire city whole.
One moment the streets of Falmouth existed; the next, they were simply gone, swallowed beneath a rolling tide of purple-black that climbed walls, poured through windows, and snuffed out every living sound in the city.
Tamara was already in the air before her mind caught up with her body.
She shot upward, using the last remains of her mana to conjure a dragon.
The smoke beast's wings blew gusts of wind in all directions as it took off, yet even the force produced by a dragon couldn't disturb the purple-black mist in the slightest.
"Aunt Tamara!"
Hearing the tender, choking voice of her niece, Tamara spun around sharply.
She had completely forgotten about the one person she cared about the most.
Was this what fear felt like?
She gritted her teeth hard. Even if it meant death, she wasn't going to be so pathetic as to let her niece die.
