that ring the king gave me — it was never fake. » aedion lmao bye
SHATTER MY MUSES TRUST

The world stopped. And then started back up again.
Aelin Galathynius stood with an immortal stillness honed from the months of training in Mistward. She might have laughed if the expression in his eyes had been anything other than that BLEAK LIFELESS VOID she had fought so hard to free Dorian from.
( No. No. No. No. No. Not him. Not Aedion. )
She wanted to SCREAM. Wanted to pull her sword from the scabbard strapped to her back and launch herself onto him. Oh gods, ––––– her sword. The sword of Orynth. The sword that was hers by right as the rightful Heir to Terrasen. The sword Aedion had SAVED to give to her all these years. It suddenly felt heavier.
She couldn’t breath. Didn’t want too. Not if it meant that her beloved cousin, the person she had went to HELL and back for, was swallowed up by that disgusting Valg.
❝ Why ?❞ is all she can manage to choke out, her voice no more than a whisper on the wind. Perhaps this was all some cruel joke. She prayed to every higher being she could think of that it was.
FIREHEART
THERE'S ALWAYS SOMETHING STYLISH IN BEING UTTERLY WICKED
YOU WERE COLD, AS THE BLOOD THROUGH YOUR BONES
SO GIVE ME HOPE IN THE DARKNESS
FOR ALL MY SWEAT, MY BLOOD RUNS WEAK
MY HEART IS GOLD AND MY HANDS ARE COLD
THROW ME TO THE WOLVES AND I WILL RETURN LEADING THE PACK
DRIPPING LIKE A SATURATED SUNRISE.

