[color=#007FFF][b][u][h1][sub][sub][sub]Farren[/sub][/sub][/sub][/h1][/u][/b][/color]		    didn’t see her rise, merely caught the strange phenomena that preceded that event–a faint but pervasive, nearly swallowed, sound like wind; then a faint luminescence as if someone had increased the contrast of the paints that Flora had used to craft the Dream. Farren frowned as all that just-barely there–brightness snapped in one direction like stars falling towards some abyss, if those stars were so numerous they had suffused all things in sight.

Farren forced himself to his feet with a grunt, rushing up the stairs until he stopped at the threshold, standing in it for a moment.

There she was, sitting up, Ophelia already speaking to her.

Amaris.

Farren felt a weight lift from him and a faint surge of adrenaline that left a deep sense of relief, his fatigue beginning to melt away already. He still felt some of that guilty, but now…she’d been returned to then.

With no mind for their current conversation at all, Farren spoke, [color=#007FFF][b]“How?!”[/b][/color]