Joran had grabbed Tunde the moment they both realized what was happening, hurling themselves through the rift’s entrance as blistering columns of undeath Ethra shattered the very grounds of the fortress around them, large skeletal forms taking shapes, each of them bristling with the strength of a peak disciple. The rift Ethra stung his skin even as his body greedily drank it, Tunde swearing he had seen Jashed fall through the entrance as well, screaming something incoherent.
Reality twisted and turned as it usually did within a rift, except this time Tunde found himself shutting off Ethra sight, his eyes stinging with the raw power of the rift. He landed on a hard ground, his breath knocked out of him even as he began scrambling to his feet, aware that enemies of clan Acacia or even worse, revenants could be around them. He saw nothing except Elder Joran next to him, the adept on his feet, turning around even with his blindfold.