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Five days of this. Five days of this endless
nightmare, with only the blackest hours of the
night offering reprieve.
She had barely seen Chaol for more than a
passing kiss and embrace. The first time, he’d
been sporting a wound to the temple that
she’d healed away. The next, he’d been
leaning heavily on his cane, covered in dirt
and blood, much of it not his own.
It was the black blood that had made her
stomach turn. Valg. There were Valg out
there. Infesting human hosts. Too many for
her to cure. No, that part would come after the
battle. If they survived.
Soon, too soon, the injured and dying had
begun pouring in. Eretia had organized a sick
bay in the great hall, and it was there that
Yrene had spent most of her time. Where
she’d been headed, after managing a few
hours of dreamless sleep.