surroundings: some sort of stairwell, where
he’d been sprawled over the lowest steps near
a landing. An archway open to the frigid night
revealed a starry, clear sky beyond. No
wyverns in it.
And cheering. Victorious, wild cheering.
Not one bone drum. Not one snarl or roar.
And Yrene, still stroking his face, was
smiling at him. Tears in her eyes.
“Feel free to yell all you like,” she said,
some of those tears slipping free.
But Chaol just gaped at her as it hit him
what, exactly, had happened. Why that surge
of power had happened.
What this remarkable woman before him
had done.
For they were calling her name. The army,
the people of Orynth were calling her name.
He was glad he was sitting down.
Even if it did not surprise him one bit that
lily
(lily)
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