Kingdom of Ash

curled its hand, beckoning. As if to say,
Follow us.
The others gaped in silence at the
magnificent, proud stag who had come to
greet them.
To guide home the Queen of Terrasen.
But then the wind began to whisper, and it
was not the song that Rowan usually heard.
No, it was a voice that they all heard as it
streamed past them.
Doom is upon Orynth, Heir of Brannon.
You must hurry.
A chill that had nothing to do with the cold
skittered down Rowan’s skin.
“The storm,” Aelin blurted, the words
swallowed by the snow.
You must hurry. We will show you the way,
swift and unseen.
Aelin only stilled. Said to that voice, as
ancient as the trees, as old as the rocks