Lia’s eyes were wet with tears of sorrow and hatred. They whispered to her i am the storm poster This was the work of the hetaera and they had succeeded in destroying all the Abbeys. Their dominion would be short-lived, Lia vowed. Raising her head, she walked towards the burning walls and summoned the power of the Medium to aid her. It is midnight.Twelfth Night. The world is ours. – Ellowyn Demont at Billerbeck Abbey CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE: Rage of the Myriad Ones Lia passed through the burning rubble of Muirwood, immune to the heat and tongues of flame. The fire consumed the stones, leaving stumps and stubble. The Abbey would burn until dawn and there would be nothing left. Unless she stopped it at the source.
Why They whispered to her?
She left near the pond, the waters befouled with chunks of ash and floating debris. As she crossed, she saw a huge ring of Dahomeyjan knights inside the cloister. The cloister walls and gates were down and tossed aside. The Leering in the middle of the fountain was in flames, shooting blasts of fire into the night sky. The knights carried tomes to the Leering and heaved them into the fountain, which was now full of molten aurichalcum. Lia gazed in shock as she saw the They whispered to her i am the storm poster Leering consuming tome after tome, each one having spent a lifetime engraving. Crouched nearby were goldsmiths, dozens of them, scooping up the molten stream and fashioning them into rings and bracelets and tiaras. The smell of cider was strong in the air. Knights staggered and laughed, clapping each other on the back as they continued the work of destruction. Lia saw a speck in the distance – in the night sky the direction of the Tor. There was something burning on the crest of the hill. With a sickening dread, she already knew what it meant.
I am the storm, Her whispered back?
Closing her eyes, she fell deep inside herself. She journeyed through her memories to a night, long ago. It was after her ninth name day, the night of the great storm. She remembered the smells from the kitchen. The plop of the water seeping in from the roof. The Aldermaston and Pasqua were there. Sowe was asleep in the loft. The storm – the flooding of the cemetery. She remembered the sound of lightning, the torrent of rain that had lasted for days. The mud and grass she had tromped They whispered to her i am the storm poster in earlier that day.The ring she still wore around her neck, its hard edge still a reminder of that night. A storm. A great storm. A storm greater than any Muirwood had endured for hundreds of years. That was what she desired. Water to put out the flames, the quench them once and for all. Come to me! she commanded. I invoke a storm to purge the Abbey. To cleanse it from this defilement.
They whispered to her i am the storm poster
Lifting her head, she opened her eyes, her hand up in the maston sign. Be it thus so. May storms always come to defend this ground should any seek to ruin it again. She made the sign of the irrevocare sigil. Someone had seen her. She heard the cautious footsteps approaching. They whispered to her i am the storm poster Lia? Is it…is it you? She turned and saw Duerden, clutching a cider cup. He gaped at her, his eyes wild with astonishment. He looked older. Worse, he looked a stranger to her. There was something more serious in his eyes, an expression of a much older man and not a boy her own age.As she looked at his face, she saw it clearly through the Gift of Seering. He was infected with the plague. Oh, Duerden, she murmured with a throb in her voice. What have you done? It is you! he said, his voice plaintive yet his expression was wracked with guilt and confusion. But look at you. Where is…Lia…the baby? Where is the baby? She saw it on his face with her hunter’s gaze. There was a dab of rouge on the corner of his mouth where a woman had kissed him. You wanted to become a maston, Lia said, her heart breaking.
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