Aeyre

Aelin POV Part I

Aelin disliked the dark. Not shadows, exactly, shadows were good. Shadows hid an assassin from her prey. Not nighttime either--nighttime was the perfect time for certain other less deadly activities. But darkness... true darkness that was so black, it wasn't even black, it was just empty... Aelin hated that. That darkness was everything she had to fight through, every day, just so stand up. But Aelin always stood up, because she was Aelin Ashryver Galathynius and she would not be afraid.

However, the very, very dark passage through the wyrdgate sent shivers up her spine that her fire could not quell. Not that Aelin could touch her fire. It was like Adarlan before the towers had been taken down--where Aelin's magic had laid dormant for so long was empty.

So Aelin kept walking. She could see nothing, and turning back would be impossible. The Walking
Dead had failed spectacularly to mention anything about wyrdgates. That blasted book... If she could have, Aelin would've incinerated the book at that moment.

Still, Aelin walked. She had no sense of time--perhaps it had been an hour, a day. She was not tired, only weary. One foot in front of the other, she repeated her mantra over and over.

Step.

I am Aelin Ashryver Galathynius.

Step.

I will not be afraid.

Step.

I am Aelin Ashryver Galathynius.

Step.

I will not--

As quickly as the darkness had engulfed her, it disappeared.
Though there had been no indication that there was in end, it seemed she had reached it. The room she was in was dimly lit (but it was nothing like the darkness of the gate) and large. Clearly, the owner was wealthy. Expensive rugs covered the floor, and a grand tapestry hung across a massive wall on the other side. The center of the room was empty, though the sides were dotted with plush sofas and chairs. It seemed to be a library, given the stacks of books next to the chairs and on the shelves to her left and right. Not a giant library... perhaps a personal one? It must be hidden away, she reasoned, given that there was no obvious entrance. Unless one conjured a wyrdgate every time they wanted to read a book.

Aelin glanced back. Behind her was a tapestry like the one across the room. The wyrdgate was gone.

Which meant, Aelin realized, she was in an unidentified realm with no way back to Erilea.

Under her breath, the assassin let out a string of curses befitting of the foulest sailor.

The first thing Aelin focused on was the "unidentified" aspect of her predicament. She walked over to a pile of books and grabbed the top one. By some miracle, it was written in the common tongue of Adarlan. Peculiar, but Aelin did not have time to ponder it.

This told Aelin rather little, aside from she would be able to communicate with whomever's residence this was. There were hundreds of realms, and Aelin knew nothing about most of them.

Curse that book...

The question was, now, would she seek out someone or hide? The people of this land might not take kindly to a foreigner. Could she defend herself? Her confidence returned slightly at the realization she could feel her flames dancing in her soul. Still, making enemies haphazardly wouldn't bode well. Whoever lived here was filthy rich, educated, and probably very powerful, if they even read a fraction of the books in the room.

Before Aelin could reach a decision, however, the room she was alone in stopped being quite so empty.

She felt someone's breath behind her and jolted at the melodic voice.

"And who exactly might you be?"