Manon:

The wind whipped Manon's hair back. The strands of silver snapped and blew around her face. She loved this feeling, the wind whistling in her ears, desert wind on her tongue. The rush of adrenaline from being this high up.

Abraxos's powerful wings beating at the wind, his muscles working beneath her.

He had grown. When she had acquired him, or he adopted her, depending on the way you looked at it, he had been broken. The runt of the litter, he had been used as a bait beast his whole life until he had saved Manon from a rampaging bull who had broken free of his handlers.

She had claimed him as hers immediately.

That kind of cunning and intelligence was rare these days. Not that he was particularly ruthless, the worm loved wildflowers for goddesses sake! But she would rather a smart mount than a stupid one. She had replaced his broken teeth with steel ones like her own and replaced his clipped claws with those made of Iron. His broken wings, she had reinforced with Spider Silk, which had been a bitch to acquire but worth it in the long run.

They had once told her that Abraxos would never fly and now he was one of the fastest Wyverns in the fleet. Save maybe Narene.

That thought had Manon glancing to her left where Asterin flew, her blonde hair trailing behind her, black leathers glinting in the weak sunlight. The sky was painted in streaks of blood red, the coming dusk doing little to lessen the oppressing heat. Asterin caught her looking out of the corner of her eye and waved, baring her human teeth. They were flying with the rest of the Thirteen after a long day of politics and rigorous training exercises, helping the newest witches master their Wyverns.

When Manon had slain her grandmother for being a corrupt queen, she had not expected the amount of pressure that came with leadership. Luckily with Asterin as her Wing Leader, she had the might of her Thirteen behind her, the witches that she had trained with since she was a young witchling.

Asterin of course, her trusted cousin and second, and Sorrel, her level-headed third. Vesta, the red-headed vixen. The demon twins with their green eyes, Faline and Falon. The two lovers, Thea and Kaya. Her two shadows, Edda and Briar, as quiet as the wind and as deadly as a hurricane. Olive skinned Lin and deadly intelligent Ghislaine. Obedient, brave Imogen.

To be honest, they did most of the work, Asterin, Sorrel and Ghislaine handling most of the diplomacy and the others acting as bodyguards and enforcers.

Manon smiled as Asterin dove forward on Narene and executed a perfect spiral. Abraxos snorted and dove after her the rest of them following in her wake. As they got closer to the ground they could see all of the fires flickering, the extremely extensive camp of the Blackbeak Witches. All of the tents pitched in the desert, wyverns harnessed to the frames. Some witches were gathered around communal fires, laughing and joking. Some leaning against their Wyverns, some not. (Most witches preferred live mounts but some were more traditional and opted for Ironwood brooms.)
The Thirteen touched down on the red sands, most of them barely even waiting to land before leaping off their mounts.

They were all laughing. Manon had noticed that they were all happier, had been since Mother Blackbeak had died. The change that had occurred in a few short years was astounding. Most of the Thirteen peeled off, leading their Wyverns off to their respective tents.

Asterin and Ghislaine however, remained by Manon's side as a young Blackbeak witch walked up and dipped her head respectfully. "My Lady. Wing Leader. "She bowed her head to Ghislaine as well. "My Lady, there is somebody here to see you."

Manon rolled her eyes, she gestured to Asterin, "Deal with this please."

The Witch piped up nervously. "With all due respect, My Lady, they asked for you personally, and I think you might want to meet them."

Manon shared a look with Asterin and Ghislaine. "Fine." She turned back to the Witch. "Lead us there." The witch turned and began to walk away through the tents. Manon followed with her two companions, their Wyverns claws stirring up the sand. They were led through the tents to one of the biggest fires where all the Witches were in a huddle on one side and a dark haired beauty was perched on a log on the other side, hands bound, a Witche's iron nails at her throat. She managed to look regal despite being dirty and only wearing a thin silk robe. She looked bone weary and exhausted.

Manon marched up and stood before her, arms crossed over the chest of her flying leathers.

The girl didn't bow. Manon had to admire her gall. She didn't cower or avert her eyes. She stood tall and proud and regal.

"Speak." Manon demanded.

The girl raised an eyebrow at her and took a moment before saying. " My Lady, it is a pleasure to meet you."

Her tone conveyed anything but. She looked like there was somewhere she'd rather be.

Manon gestured impatiently, "Get on with it."

The dark haired beauty rolled her eyes. The Witch holding her dug her nails farther into her pale throat but didn't say a word.

"I am the emissary of the High Court of Terrasen. I was sent by Lady Elide Lochan of Perranth."

She sounded annoyed at having to be so formal.

Manon snorted and gestured to the Blackbeak Witch. "Release her."

The girl looked scandalised, "But-but-"

Manon snapped her iron teeth down, flicked out her nails and turned a glare on the insolent child. " Now."

The Witch let out an undignified squeal and quickly unbound the Raven-haired girl's hands, her own shaking too badly to simply slash through the ropes.

The Raven-haired girl sniffed and rubbed at her wrists where nasty red sores had begun to form.

"Sorry about that," Manon told her, actually half meaning it. "But caution and all, you understand."

The girl rolled her eyes. "I'm sure I do."

"You have a name?" Manon asked her, raising an eyebrow at the ignorance.

The girl offered her a hand, heedless of the iron nails still gracing Manon's fingertips. " Lysandra."

When their hands met, Manon could sense the dull hum of magic thrumming through her veins.

"Manon," Manon offered, removing her arm.

" I know." Lysandra said, " Elide told me. What she failed to inform me of was who exactly you were and how the two of you met."

If she hadn't known who Manon was before, she certainly did now.

Manon turned to Ghislaine and Asterin who had been hovering about her like guards, which, Manon supposed, they were. " You two-" She made a shooing motion with her hand, drawing her iron nails in slowly.

They hesitated but slowly departed, if this girl was truly sent by Elide Lochan, they had nothing to fear for her.

Manon nodded her head away from the tents and she and Lysandra wandered northward, following the first star of the evening.

They stopped a little way out from the tents, a hundred meters or so, and sat on top of a dune. Abraxos curled behind their backs and promptly fell asleep.
" Worm." Manon muttered affectionately. Lysandra marveled at the Wyvern, trailing a hand up and down his scaly flank. "Gods, I have to learn this form."

Manon chose not to comment on her strange word choice.

" How do you know Elide?" Lysandra said, turning her still smiling face back to Manon, and Monon was suddenly struck with a funny feeling, the girl suddenly looked years younger. Less haughty and regal and more like the barley-out-of-her-teens girl that she really was.

"Three years ago," Manon told her, "Maybe four. I don't measure the passing of time really. My grandmother was still the queen of the Blackbeak Witches."

She paused, wondering where exactly to begin the story. " Elide was half starved, wandering the desert. She had escaped from a gang of scavengers who were selling young girls for gold. Goddess knows how she managed to escape with that cursed leg of hers. Me and my Thirteen hid her for many days, my Grandmother would never have allowed a human to reside among us, back then, I wouldn't have either.

But that girl… there is something special about her,"

Lysandra hummed her agreement.

" When my Grandmother discovered that we were hiding her, she dragged us out bound and gagged, said that she was going to make an example of us, 'this is what happens when you grow soft.'

As she was talking, spouting all this horseshit about righteousness and how we were traitors to our bloodline, Elide snuck up behind her and unbound us all. They hadn't bothered tying her up, thought she was too weak and human to attempt anything. She caused a diversion by making this huge explosion, she said something about pressurized air and fire or some crap, I was honestly too invested in not dying to pay too much attention.

She rode with me and my Thirteen when we flew to kill my Grandmother."

Manon continued.

"Her mount is still around here somewhere, the poor thing had lost her previous rider and she was so happy to fly again, the beast didn't let anyone near her until Elide came along. She's a wild thing.

I digress, we flew against my Grandmother. We killed many who were loyal to her, Elide killed the last one so Asterin and I could strike my Grandmother's killing blow."

Manon looked solemnly at Lysandra, letting all the steel of her will show through her eyes, "I owe her my life and I will do everything I can to repay her debt."

"That's good then," Lysandra said, smiling a wicked slow smile. "Because I have a favour to ask you, and it has a hefty price."

Manon already knew what she would ask. Already knew that she herself would agree. Goddess, she had gone soft.

She turned her head away from Lysandra and motioned toward a plant in the sand. It didn't look like much, just a sparse, scrubby thing. Thin wire-like leaves and small, pale purple flowers.
"See that?" She said. " My ancestor was Rhiannon Crochan. The last Crochan queen. She was killed by an Irontooth Witch in the Witch Wars. With her dying breath, she cast a spell on everything you see before you here."

She gestured to the wasteland, to the sky. "Blood to blood and soul to soul, together this was done, and only together can it be undone. Be the bridge, be the light. When iron melts, when flowers spring from fields of blood—let the land be witness, and return home.

When I slew my Grandmother and took over as Queen of the Witch Kingdom these flowers started to bloom. There weren't many, but no life had existed in the wastes for many years. Then a few months later, one of my Witches fell pregnant by her mortal lover. When she delivered a healthy, beautiful baby, we knew. Or rather, Elide figured it out. I was part Crochan. The curse recognised me as such. Crochan and Irontooth blood in my veins bought this place back to life."

Lysandra was looking at her patiently, waiting for her to get to the point.

Manon sighed.
"The point is, emissary- I am not my Grandmother. I am no Vulture, waiting for the lesser predators to rip each other to scraps before picking at the remains.

"If Elide wishes me to fight this war with her as she aided me, then I will do so. I will not see my world, the one I just got back, reduced to ashes. I will not be the one picking at scraps to survive the decimation. I will not benefit from others misfortune."

She rose to her feet, brushing sand off her leathers.

"Sleep. We ride for Adarlan at Dawn."

…

Aelin:

Lysandra had been gone for a week now and Aelin was going stir crazy. Again.

It was like she was back in Terrasen, planning, planning, planning. Gods damn this.

The entire reason she had run away was so that she could fight. Here she was, however, back in the exact same situation, just a different place.

The more time she spent here, the more opportunity for Rhoe to send people to retrieve her and drag her kicking and screaming, back to a life of parties and politics.

She may not have a plan for the war, might be completely unprepared. But she sure as Hellas was not going back to Terrasen. Not now.

Not when she had come so far.

Rowan came up behind her, where she was standing at the window, looking out over the glass wall.

Thankfully, they had quarters in the stone castle and they didn't have to reside in the glass monstrosity above.

He pushed a mug of steaming tea into her hand, pressed a kiss to her cheek. Buried his face in her neck.

Warmth enveloped her as his arms came around her. She reached back to run her hands through his hair.

He made a noise that was particularly like a purr. Aelin snickered and turned around into the circle of his arms and wrapped hers around his neck, setting the warm mug down on a side table.

"I hope I'm not going to regret this." Rowan said, humour evident in his voice.

"Hmm?" Aelin pressed her face into his shoulder-suddenly tired.

"Following you to the ends of the earth." Rowan teased, shifting his feet, swaying them in a slow circle.

They went round and round for a while, dancing with no music playing for a minute until Aelin replied, "I'm sorry." So quietly that Rowan almost doesn't hear her.

He pulled back slowly, gently extricating himself from her arms. "I don't regret it," He told her solemnly, looking into her eyes. His own searching her face. Willing her to see his earnestness. "I would follow you anywhere, Fireheart."

She laughed and shook her head. Rowan pulled her back in to hug her again. "It's true."
He said into her hair. "I would follow you anywhere. To the ends of the Earth. To a different world. I would follow you to Hellas, no questions asked."

Something warm bloomed in Aelin's core and she hid her smile in the crook of Rowan's neck.

"This war will kill us you know." She told him. Even though she was certain of his conviction, she wanted him to understand how much regret she would carry when all was said and done. "We will not come through this intact."

"I will follow you." Rowan promised again. "We all will."