Kingdom of Ash

near him, breaking soldiers between them, did
not hesitate. Only slaughtered onward, teeth
gritted.
For Adarlan—for what had been done to it
and what it might become.
The words echoed in his every panting
breath. For Adarlan.
Morath’s army stretched ahead, still
between them and the battered walls of
Orynth.
Dorian didn’t let himself think of how
many remained. He only thought of the sword
and shield in his hands, Damaris already
bathed in blood, of the magic he wielded to
supplement his strikes. He wouldn’t shift—
not yet. Not until his weapons and magic
began to fail him. He’d never fought in
another form, but he’d try. As a wyvern or a
ruk, he’d try.
Somewhere above him, Manon Blackbeak