56 Choosing a Land

Anaphiel did not knock on the door. Long before she stood in front of it, she conjured a gust of air with a casual sweep. The wind blew on the heavy door which burst open inwards. 

Then she stormed in as if she owned the place. It was not so, but she had her own reasons for being so at home.

When the door slammed violently against the opposite stone wall and a chilly squall swept through the building, the employee dozing behind her desk woke up with a start.

The young woman was just as tall and pretty as Anaphiel, but her pointed ears and silky, leaf-green hair told them that they had little in common. Except for their well-moisturized pale skin and their sleeveless black dresses that were almost identical as if it was not a raunchy outfit, but a uniform.