Lykos breathed out a long sigh of relief. Then a wing twitched, was thrown off, and Maquin rose from the Kadoshim’s ruin, a long cut across his forehead, a limp in his left leg, but other than that he appeared to be infuriatingly healthy. “Elyon above and Asroth below,” Lykos whispered, feeling a cold breath upon his neck. “LYKOS,” he heard Maquin scream. Lykos began to run.
Gave me a good laugh
