Avisiéth.

It seemed a shame that Lorreth’s song had been ripped out of the world, all memory of it erased. It had moved me in a way. It had explained so much. Why can I still remember it? I asked. We remember, so the Alchemist remembers.

Not Danya’s sword, the quicksilver hissed. We are reforged. New unto this place. You do not claim us, Lorreth of the Broken Spires. We claim you.

Of the Fisher King, and the wolves at his back, who came howling in the night, together, a pack. The frost blessed the morning. The warriors faced their fate. And thus begins our tale, The Ballad of Ajun Gate.

Fisher’s tattoo, as well as the animal embossed into the armor worn by the members of the Lupo Proelia.

She was beautiful in a way that hurt to look at.

Yvelia’s

He laughed mirthlessly, shaking his head. “Humans have never been slaves here. At least not to the Yvelians. When we were blighted with our blood curse thousands of years ago, you were definitely dinner. But never slaves.”

“It’s always confounded me. Humans aren’t restricted by the same laws as the Oath Bound Fae. You creatures can lie whenever you want. You do it all of the time.