VIII. The Council

"Old friend." There's a bloody grin in Phylaks's voice as she clasps Eramis's hand and pulls her close to her chest. Kridis stands behind Phylaks, tall and ethereal. They're exactly as Eramis remembers them. Phylaks chuckles. "I always said no prison will hold her." Eramis laughs, easy and familiar. It's as if…