𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖 | 𝟏𝟖+

xxxii. tabrien's blood.

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‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐍 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐀 𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐓𝐀𝐆 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐀𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝑾𝑬𝑹𝑬 to the base of the hill, surrounded by the dismembered bodies of Morrow's carnage. She expects to see the were-wyng and his violence, but there's no pair of shadowed wings in sight. Only the forgotten, most of them terrans and nautica.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The sight of blood and corpses causes the bile to rush up Elowen's esophagus. She survived the war between Reovell and Brecia, but she never actually saw the damage that became of it. She fled before she could witness the blood pouring and souls spilling into oblivion. This new raging war declared by the high lord will be nothing that she's ever witnessed.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎This will become hell on earth.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎To think that Morrow is at the forefront of this, not even attempting to achieve peace between the two parties. Would he even try to barter with Alistair? Does she even want him to?

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The dead hardly phase Arion as he claps her on the shoulder. "Do you need a bag to heave in?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen swallows hard. "Nope. I can handle it."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Good, because now that you got that sword, you have to put it to good use." His eyes shine in the dimming sunlight. "You can't hesitate to kill if you have no other options."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Do you believe Morrow did all this?" Elowen asks, gesturing to the field.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"His best friend is in terran custody. He'd go batshit for any of us, but because it's Ronyn..." He shrugs. "They've always been close. He's tearing apart limb and limb to get him back."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen doesn't want to know what would happen if it were her in the hands of the terrans. Morrow already went rogue when they were still strangers and navigating their tether. Now that they've grown to accept the fate woven between them, it's a whole new unknown that they have yet to explore.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Arion guides her towards the army, half of them sent from the province of Yestrea in order to hinder Alistair's advance upon them.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen finds relief when she spots Oleander amongst them, her inner creature longing to hurl herself into his arms. He was the one that warned her to be wary of the royals, the one that told her to seek out Thorn. It's a form of trust that's been set in concrete.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Oleander gives her a cordial nod. "I was told by a certain someone that you found him."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She breaks into a smile. "I did, and I thought you'd be tied to Novus' throne."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"When it comes to keeping Yestrea safe, aiding the were in their endeavours to put an end to the terrans greed is a task we must take." He narrows his gaze, a lock of navy hair falling into his eyes. "Did you have success with Thorn?"