Slows the Sunset

The beating of war drums in her ear nearly drowns out Teferi's voice next to her, but his hand squeezing her shoulder brings her back. She shakes her head, presses her eyes together. "Teferi, I have to—there are people I need to—"

"I know," he says. And he sounds afraid, too, but there's a bravery to his voice that lends her some of the same. "I was going to tell you I owed you a long sunset."

She narrows her eyes, but he's already planting his staff in the earth, already giving her a smile that speaks of confidence he's kindled deep within. "Witches of the Dawnheart Coven!" he bellows, "Let's get this ritual started!"

The second his staff hits the earth, a shockwave spreads, and every muscle in Teferi's body goes stiff with effort. This time, when he looks at her, she knows she can't waste this borrowed time.

Her dreams are dying by the second as are the last rays of the last sunset on Innistrad.

She has to do what she can.

HARVESTTIDE