Northern and Ascendant Zion stared upward, their expressions crumbling like ancient ruins. Ascendant Zion's face had blanched to a shade whiter than Northern's.
Since night had fallen, the sky was already dark, but normally stars glittered like scattered diamonds against the blanket of the sky, and the twin moons—each a crescent carved toward the other—would cast a shower of pale light upon the world.
During winter, night was usually not as dark as in autumn or summer. Even the cold wind had a way of illuminating its surroundings with a crystalline quality. The sky shouldn't be as dark as it was right now.
But darkness had swallowed everything, as if a thick blanket of shadow had spilled from the rift and engulfed the entire sky in one hungry gulp.
Northern and the Ascendant did not need to be told what was going to happen next.
"Crappy rain... could have really chosen another time," Northern muttered, his voice tight despite the casual words.
