[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Malris, do not fear... I come.

Tasa unsheathed her blade, useless though it may be. She pulled a razor sharp dagger and positioned it in her left hand.

He had said that it was like the Nirnaeth. Tasa only allowed a few short memories to rise to her conscious thought: he'd been surrounded, it was desperate; she'd led her troops into an ambush in order to save him. But this was no ambush... this was a desperate cry for help. Tasa would recognize a call from Malris no matter how many long centuries had passed. The very feel of them was laced with the power of a forest fire, the will of the tide, the patience of a late spring awaiting winter's final storm.

Springing through the passage he had just disappeared into, Tasa heard the door slam behind her. She ignored it, searching, working her way toward her friend, guided only by feeling. She could see nothing.