❛WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU MAKE THE TEN MOST POWERFUL GODS ALIVE PLAY A GAME OF MUSICAL CHAIRS WITH ONE SEAT?❜
They fight - to the death.
They fight over three crowns and a throne with steel spiked maces. They despair a little more everyday keeping thei...
I had a last view as the Dessari behind us burst in a huge flame of fire, a minute too late.
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GARDENS OF VIOLL, STEFFITH.
TRISTAN
THE SKY WAS PINK AND the seagulls were singing.
Which meant it was nearly morning.
We barely made it out in time.
And we nearly died.
Clearly, whatever enchantment was on the Island had never intended for any person who entered it to leave it alive.
And we still didn't have the piece of the Logogram. Damn it. This nightmare would have to be repeated in another two weeks.
I got up suddenly, looking around. The Gardens of Violl. What were we doing here and why did Nyx teleport us to Steffith?
Edwina was sitting on the grassy earth, her head between her knees as she rocked to and fro.
“Woman?”
She looked up. A trickle of dried blood ran down her temple, her nose too was bleeding. Her beautiful hair was a tangle of leaves and twigs and sweat clung to it in rivulets. She was heaving, eyes closed, looking completely drained. I remembered the last flash of fire on the Island as we escaped, and it struck me that it had been her who did it. Even so exhausted, she'd managed one last burst of power - completely blowing up the land all around the entrance.
Why did she make me stand so much in awe of her with every passing moment?
“Hey,” I said, crouching down in front of her. Her face was pale, different from her usual rosy complexion, and she opened her eyes, which widened as she saw me. My hand automatically went to the strand of hair plastered across her face, and I tucked it behind her ear gently, thankful that she didn't protest. Her wounds seemed to be healing though - the colour returning to her with every passing second.
“Valmont,” she gasped slightly, drawing in a breath.
“Are you alright?” I moved her leg from under her, turning it to see the black leather torn near the ankle to reveal the mark of a wound almost closing up. “Damn, this needs to-”
