Chapter 41
It was nothing but legends. Stories. They were fantasies enjoyed by children, and told around campfires late at night. That was all, though. There was nothing to the tale.
There couldn’t have been. There were no signs of them ever existing before. There was no evidence of their race.
And yet when Mykal had first learned about the dagger, Blodwyn and Galatia had exchanged knowing glances.
He should have pressed them for details then.
It was too late for asking questions now.
The wizard was raising his hands, about to deliver a pulverizing blow of magic that would most assuredly end Mykal’s life.
The Grey Ashland would be swallowed up whole by the Mountain King. The Old Empire would once again be united, only not under the more thoughtful rule of someone like Henry Rye.
Da
