The Veil Over Blackthorne
Gary's plans were already underway. As his camp in Vellore was filled with tension and plots, the sky over Blackthorne City glowed with something else—something otherworldly.
Two figures floated from the skies, encapsulated in a crystalline-blue dome of light that was nearly translucent. They moved soundlessly over the city capital sprawl, their forms seeming to unsettle neither the clouds nor the winds; they moved as if heaven itself bore them.
They were both striking, fairy-like in their beauty, but with an aura that caused even night itself to appear dull in comparison.
One was Natasha—her black hair being cut in a sharp, neat bob that set off her pale face to perfection. Her eyes, black as obsidian, narrowed as she watched the ground below with quiet intensity. There was a sharpness about her beauty, a lethal kind of elegance that implied both grace and danger.
