ERON
Nothing says "impending doom" quite like finding yourself knee-deep in a swamp that shouldn't exist, in a realm literally named for eternal summer. Yet here I was, staring at moss-draped trees that looked like they'd been ripped straight from a horror movie poster, complete with the requisite creepy fog rolling across stagnant water.
"I thought the Summer Court was all sunshine and flower crowns," I muttered, yanking my boot free from the sucking mud with a grotesque squelch. "This feels more like discount Halloween decor."
Lady Aranis shot me an unimpressed look over her shoulder. "The borderlands don't conform to your tourist brochure expectations, Prince Aetheren."
"Just Eron is fine," I reminded her for the twentieth time. The silver-armored warrior insisted on using my full S
