Chapter Thirty-Six
Homecoming
The tall grass of the Adar Daran rustled against Lysandir’s robes as he walked. He looked down at himself. The fabric had been crimson once. Now it was a mud-smeared tatter that smelled faintly of unwashed flesh. In some places, his robes had ripped completely, leaving his bare, copper skin exposed. Scabs riddled his elbows and knees from where he had slipped and fallen in the mountains. His unkempt beard itched at his chin.
The journey had not been kind to him.
It had taken all his strength not to black out after the visions the Forbidden Pool had shown him. He had forced the harrowing images far into the back of his mind as he had pushed himself forward toward the hidden pass he had been shown.
It had taken days for him to reach the pass undetected. The
