She sailed farther south, the horizon bleak and empty. Until it wasn’t. Until she beheld what marched toward them and nearly tumbled from the sky. Ren had taught her how to count soldiers, yet she lost track each time she attempted to get a number on the neat lines stomping across Adarlan’s northern plains. Right toward the foothills that spanned both territories. Thousands. Five, ten, fifteen thousand. More. Again and again, she stumbled on counting. Twenty, thirty. Lysandra rose higher into the sky. Higher, because winged ilken flew with them, soaring low over the black-armored troops,
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