owed the Fae King Brannon for granting us a
homeland. For centuries, we were your closest
allies and friends.” That crown of stars blazed
bright upon her head. “We heard your call for
aid.” Lysandra began weeping. “And we have
come to answer it.”
“How many,” Aedion breathed, scanning
the skies, the mountains. “How many?”
Pride and awe filled the Witch-Queen’s
face, and even her golden eyes were lined with
silver as she pointed toward the Staghorns.
“See for yourself.”
And then, breaking from between the
peaks, they appeared.
Red cloaks flowing on the wind, they filled
the northern skies. So many he could not
count them, nor the swords and bows and
weapons they bore upon their backs, their
brooms flying straight and unwavering.
Thousands. Thousands of them descended
lily
(lily)
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