YOU WANT IT DARKER
If you are the dealer, I'm out of the game
If you are the healer, it means im broken and lame
If thine is the glory, then mine must be the shame
You want it darker
We kill the flame
Magnified, sanctified
Be the holy name
Vilified, crucified
In the human frame
A million candles burning
For the help that never came
You want it darker...
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The summer days grew cooler the farther north they rode. Evangeline, to her credit, kept pace with them, never complaining about having to sleep on a bedroll night after night. She seemed perfectly happy to curl up with Fleetfoot, her new protector and loyal friend.
Lysandra used the journey to test out her abilities--sometimes flying with Rowan overhead, sometimes running as a pretty black dog alongside Fleetfoot, sometimes spending days in her ghost leopard form and pouncing on Aedion whenever he least expected it.
Three weeks of grueling travel- -but also three of the happiest weeks Aelin had ever experienced.
They crested the hill and halted.
Aelin released the reins and took a staggering step, the emerald grass soft underfoot.
Aedion touched her shoulder. "Welcome home, Aelin."
A land of towering mountains--the Staghorns--spread before them, with valleys and rivers and hills; a land of untamed, wild beauty.
Terrasen.
And the smell--of pine and snow... How had she never realized that Rowan's scent was of Terrasen, of home? Rowan came close enough to graze her shoulder and murmured, "I feel as if I've been looking for this place my entire life."
Indeed--with the wicked wind flowing fast and strong between the gray, jagged Staghorns in the distance, with the dense spread of Oakwald to their left, and the rivers and valleys sprawling toward those great northern mountains--it was paradise for a hawk. Paradise for her.
"Right there," Aedion said, pointing to a small, weather-worn granite boulder carved with whorls and swirls. "Once we pass that rock, we're on Terrasen soil."
Not quite daring to believe she wasn't still asleep, Aelin walked toward that rock, whispering the Song of Thanks to Mala Fire-Bringer for leading her to this place, this moment.
Aelin ran a hand over the rough rock, and the sun-warmed stone tingled as if in greeting.
Then she stepped beyond the stone.
And at long last, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius was home.
images credit: Scribe.Jesinia Artwork
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