The faceless figure stood at the edge of the golden mist.
Its white robes moved despite the absence of wind, their hems drifting over the polished floor without making a sound. Pale eyes watched Rin and Eryndor from a face that had no other features.
"Now," the figure said, "we shall see which of you was truly meant to survive."
Rin instinctively stepped in front of Eryndor.
He did not know why he had done it. Perhaps it was the expressionless face, the strange pressure filling the chamber, or the memory of Aelion agreeing to sacrifice his future. Whatever the reason, Rin could not bear the thought of Eryndor standing alone before another being who spoke as if his life belonged to someone else.
Behind him, Eryndor caught his sleeve.
"Don't."
Rin glanced back.
