“I’m not different,” Adin replied, touching her bark-armored chest. “I’m finally everything I was supposed to be. Fire for the fight. Ice for the fall. And green for the after .”
“No more running,” she whispered, and her voice came out in two tones: her own, and the rustle of autumn leaves. verdant adin epic seven
End of Report.
She drove her thorn-sword through the Rootweeper’s core. The creature didn’t scream. It blossomed —a grotesque, beautiful flower of black and green, and then crumbled into fertile soil. “I’m not different