The remaining Silent Gale Hunters, their work nearly complete, with only three Ferals remaining, also paused, turning towards the descending woman.
Their posture was not surprising, but rather silent, as if their queen had just arrived on the battlefield.
They subtly shifted, creating a clear space around the cult leader, gathering behind the woman.
While the remaining three Ferals stood behind the masked Cult leader.
As the woman flew down, her feet barely skimming the rubble-strewn ground, hovered a few paces from the cult leader.
For a long moment, they simply faced each other, an island of stillness in the heart of the devastation, suffering, and chaos of injured people.
The wind swirled gently around her, making her storm-grey robes ripple, but her winter-sky eyes never left the shrouded figure before her.
The cult leader, in turn, seemed to drink in her presence.
