Chapter Nine Griffin
Aghadoon sat in the middle of the army camp, yet walking from the village into the sea of tents felt like taking a long journey, leaving Griffin tired and wanting to seek his bed.
They’d seen no sun for a week now as reports came to them of attacks on the Eldurians to the north. Without their day magic, the army couldn’t use magic to defend themselves.
And his Iskalt magic… During his time in Myrkur, he’d longed to feel it buzzing underneath his skin, the warmth when it pooled in his fingertips. But his body wasn’t meant to hold magic for such a continuous period.
Griffin stumbled toward the Dark Fae camp, wanting nothing more than to collapse where he stood. His fellow Iskalt soldiers lazed around their tents, unable to rise while their Fargelsian counterparts coo
