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Chapter 83: The Return
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Chapter 85: The March Without Banners
PREVIEW
... or was not a place. Not in the way the monastery or the valley had been. It was weightless, formless—an expanse of shifting reflections, like walking through a storm made of memory and light. Each step echoed twice: once in sound, once in image. But none of the images were Leon.
He walked between versions.
In one pane of sky, he saw himself holding the blade aloft, cloaked in fire, standing alone atop a field of ash. In another, he lay still beneath the ruin of a city, the same b ...
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