defend Terrasen.
And as Aedion and the Valg prince fought
along the walls, as that ancient shield refused
to yield, he wondered if there was a different
sort of power in the metal. One that the Valg
could never and would never understand. Not
true magic, not as Brannon and Aelin had. But
something just as strong—stronger.
That the Valg might never break, no matter
how they tried.
Aedion’s sword sang, and the Valg prince
roared as Aedion connected with his arm,
slashing deep.
Black blood sprayed. Aedion leaped upon
the advantage, shoving with the shield and
stabbing with his blade.
But the prince had been waiting.
Had set a trap, his own body as the bait.
And as Aedion slammed into the Valg
prince, the demon drew a dagger from his
lily
(lily)
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