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March 12 - March 13, 2023
Two months, three days, and about eight hours later, the clock on the mantel chimed noon.
The map—that was the mythic map that he’d sold his soul to have inked on his hands. The map of the world’s oceans—the map that changed to show storms, foes … and treasure.
Rolfe clenched the hilt of his sword. It glinted in the muted light, and she admired the intricate pommel, shaped like a sea dragon’s head.
THE SEA DRAGON.
She’d had Sam only six years before she’d died—murdered by a jealous client.
Arobynn
“Reckless, but maybe the most meaningful, too.”
the breeze, which smelled of a faraway land she hadn’t seen in eight years. Pine and snow—a
Orynth. A city of light and music, watched over by an alabaster castle with an opal tower so bright it could be viewed for miles.
Yrene Towers
Even if the gods had abandoned her, Yrene still believed in them; they were still somewhere, still watching. She believed, because how else could she explain being saved just now?
Even with the bruises, the girl was alluring. Like wildfire,
This girl wasn’t like wildfire—she was wildfire. Deadly and uncontrollable. And slightly out of her wits.
She needed to go to the Red Desert. Even if it was only to see where the Wyrd planned to lead her.
For wherever you need to go—and then some. The world needs more healers.
The gods had vanished, her mother had once claimed. But had they? Had it been some god who had visited tonight, clothed in the skin of a battered young woman?
There were so many of them now—the children who had lost everything to Adarlan. Children who had now grown into assassins and barmaids, without a true place to call home, their native kingdoms left in ruin and ash.
Yet there, deep in her gut, was a small but insistent tug. A tug on a strand of some invisible web.
Hoped that an assassin’s jewel would pay for a healer’s education. So maybe it was the gods at work. Maybe it was some force beyond them, beyond mortal comprehension.
Prayed that somehow, years from now, Yrene Towers would return to this continent, and maybe, just maybe, heal their shattered world a little bit.
there.” Sessiz suikast. The Silent Assassins—the
Sessiz suikast. The Silent Assassins—the
Not that we all don’t have our own secret agenda.” Ansel winked,
the parapet,
Im missing Basgiath so much
that if you looked through the archway on the night of the summer solstice, then you might see into another world.”
An archway to another world you say?
the only way to kill a witch is to cut off her head.
Lani, the goddess of dreams—and
Ruhnn Mountains
Ruhn Danaan CPOTVF
“I heard from a city guard that strange dealings go on between Berick and some of the Silent Assassins.”
Asterion horses, of course. The most ancient breed of horse in Erilea.
ASTERI??????
Celaena had fired after twenty-one.
For the first time in a long while, she heard the song of a northern wind, calling her home. And she was not afraid.
God of Atonement,
Kiva god of atonement
Of all the people in the world, only Arobynn knew the absolute truth.
“Lysandra,”
His mother had been one of them, and had asked Arobynn—a patron of hers—to look after her son. Sam had only been six when she was murdered by a jealous client.
Iove the theory that arobynn is sams dad AND the jealous client who killed samsmom
Four young men wearing masks stood atop the steps, surveying the crowd.
Dorian!!!!!!!
one of them keeping close to the dark-haired youth. That one had a sword, she noticed, and from his tensed shoulders,
CHAOL!! guarding the love of his life, Dorian 😂
“I have no name,” she purred. “I am whoever the keepers of my fate tell me to be.”
“Take my body home to Terrasen, Sam,” she whispered. And with a gasping breath, she went under.
as he said, “Because I spent all the money you gave me when I was at Lysandra’s Bidding last night.
He smelled of her lavender soap—her expensive lavender soap that she’d once warned him to never use again.
My name is Sam Cortland … and I will not be afraid.
The body still smelled faintly like Sam. And like the cheap soap she’d made him use, because she was so selfish that she couldn’t let him have her lavender soap.
Those black eyes were poised to devour the world;
Arobynn’s attention drifted back to the wagon, already a small dot in the rolling foothills above Rifthold. “Because I don’t like sharing my belongings.”
And there—standing in a copse of thorns—was a white stag. Celaena’s breath hitched.
The Lord of the North.
So the people of Terrasen will always know how to find their way home
I will not be afraid.
