All of them, every single person in the
keep or the skies or on the battlefield, kept
glancing toward the now-empty gap between
two mountain peaks. Toward the flooded,
decimated city, and the demarcation line
between life and death. Water and debris had
destroyed most of Anielle, the former now
trickling toward the Silver Lake.
A vision of what would have been left of
them, were it not for Aelin Galathynius.
Yrene knelt over a ruk rider, the woman’s
chest slashed open from a sword blow, and
held out her bloodied, glowing hands.
Magic, clean and bright, flowed from her
into the woman, mending torn skin and
muscle. The blood loss would take time to
recover from—but the woman had not lost so
much of it that Yrene needed to expend her
energy on refilling its levels.
She needed to rest soon. For a few hours.
lily
(lily)
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