>>Aelin
Something… shifted.
Not in the room. Not in the earth beneath us.
Inside me.
A strange, foreign sensation swept through my chest, as though something ancient had stirred from deep slumber, pressing its fingers into my ribs. I inhaled sharply, my breath catching in my throat as a chill coursed down my spine.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
Seraphine's gaze didn't leave mine. Her purple eyes—so much like Draegon's, but softer, weighed with centuries of pain—seemed to look through me. Into me.
"There's a story," she said, her voice barely audible over the distant screams of war outside. "More of a prophecy, really. Passed down in the old tongue. From where I come from. A land now lost."
She turned her eyes to the window again, watching the blood-red sky with a wistful look. "When the darkness awakens again to consume the world… when the Eye returns… it is said a descendant of the Solwyn line will rise. The last light. To break the night."
Solwyn.
