All Chapters of Wanderers Of the Night: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

The silvery lines, as if recollecting themselves, returned to their creator and vanished like a halo under his feet. The Vistolet chuckled coldly, surveyed the ground with an attentive glance, and only then came closer. The tenacious glance of dark eyes quickly ran over the guy's figure, lingered on his face and moved to the weapon.Yarsi waited, he changed the aura of the swords, their appearance, but not their shape. The Vistolet gave no indication of his reaction, his eyes flickered over the weapon and again glared at the eyes of the werewolf.- May I see it? – hand kerten-deso with a relaxed gesture pointed to the Vistol sword.Yarsi nodded, unhooked the sword from his belt and, without taking it out of its scabbard, handed it to the vistolian.- I would like to SEE, - he clarified without touching the weapon.Now the werewolf grinned, wondering if it would be possible to remove the shield only from the sword. He held it in his outstretched hand, under his fingers there was an ela

It was not possible to persuade Kim and his sisters to stay in the village, and even Lewis got involved. They decided not to bypass the hill, but to climb to its top. The slope turned out to be quite suitable for this - not very steep, in places overgrown with shrubs, which made it possible to grab onto its branches.The children were quickly out of breath, Lewis held on to their backs, helped the girls up. Vic moved cautiously ahead, often stopping and waiting for satellites, somehow he wanted them to be close, and not stretched along the slope. All four climbed in silence, even Kim was very focused and almost catching up with Vic.The top turned out to be sloping, only a few steps long, and then the descent began. The Vistolet clung to the ground, crawled a little and stopped behind a thick bush. Still lying, he cautiously peered out from behind the branches and involuntarily clutched the grass with his hands, squeezed, tore out with the roots. Nothing but curses came to mind. Kim s

As a child, this forest was perceived as just a scary tale told by an old teacher...A jerk up, another jerk, the skin burns with the breath of a flame raging underfoot, the rock squeezes the fire, makes it fly up.And how could it be otherwise? When you lie under a warm blanket, in such a familiar, comfortable room, knowing that you are safe ...The crackling of the converging walls and the rustling of the crumbling earth were the only sounds available to him. Fear? It's funny - fear does not exist.And only somewhere in the depths of consciousness beats an obsessive thought that fairy tales are not always fiction. They are just different...There were no fairy tales in his life and there was no that emptiness that always accompanied the brothers. They were different.“I am grateful to you, teacher, for a life outside of magic, for understanding deprivation, for the perverted joy of feeling like a man. For getting used to the pain of loss. And I hate you. I hate it all put together.

For some time now, Vik began to think that walking barefoot on the roads was a completely natural activity for him. And the fact that he was wearing only pants did not bother him at all. Compared to the torn chest and shoulder, it generally seemed like some kind of trifle.Vic moved his injured arm, grimaced, looked at the silently wandering Kim.- Hey, doctor, can you heal my shoulder at least? After all, our safety depends on it. I'm worse with my left hand than my right.Kim touched him on the shoulder without answering and whispered almost inaudible incantations as he went. The Vistolet felt a rush of warmth, and the wound tingled. The skin was quickly pulled together and in place of the ruptures scars formed almost instantly. Vic hissed through his teeth, the energy tormenting his flesh too mercilessly, even if it was healing, but the speed and strength of this healing was definitely not normal. Vic twitched, shook off the mage's hand, and rubbed his healed shoulder. Stab needles

With each step, a thick cloud of ash rose into the air. The smallest black particles resembled homogeneous weightless dust and were torn off from the slightest movement. Ordinary ash is not like that. And there is no such thing as fog. And the frost crystals remaining after it should not dig into the ground with spikes and harden with ugly thorns.The earth was dying, underfoot, instead of soil, a lifeless stone rang. The ash was not just an outer cover, it became a death shroud for this forest...The border of living trees moved a huge distance, edging the black, cracked wasteland. The disfigured land stretched all the way to the hills, from behind which a string of walking corpses continued to crawl out. The swaying figures, paying no attention to anything, stepped into the ashes and indifferently wandered forward.Yarsi was forced to move away from the main scene of action in order to remain under the crowns of trees. The gigantic skeleton of the dragon turned back to the dead. Sno