Had those three divisions paid closer attention, they might have noticed the subtle way those stone figures moved and writhed as they fell, or perhaps caught a glimpse of flickering Arcanis peaking out from beneath their wounds.
Delaine was never short on ambition. That’s what kept her alive. Well, that and the ability to steal knowledge from the dead.
While things had started well enough, with the Sunwardens effortlessly holding back the advancing Haswell conscripts, The Dawn Queen could foresee the tide turning, and soon.
The Tyrin were dying, whether they admitted it or not – the sacrifices they’d made to survive meant tomorrow bore no future generations of Fae.
Gone are the luminous fae of myth. They’re called Tyrin now, an ancient word in an ancient tongue meaning Warskin.