It's spoken of, enough. In whispers, largely, or loudly if it's to condemn. There's always a small ruckus at the Arlathvhen over whether or not it's something to be feared or simply properly respected. She'd always erred on the side of the latter, trusting the Keepers and their Firsts and Seconds to wield magic with the same gravity with which they led their Clans, but this—
This was horror. No personal sacrifice, but sacrifice of others. Mass sacrifice, to bring about some gargantuan grotesque creature from the Fade. Spirit. Demon. Something that makes the small hairs on the back of her neck rise with instinctive fear even through the intervening years.
no subject
It's spoken of, enough. In whispers, largely, or loudly if it's to condemn. There's always a small ruckus at the Arlathvhen over whether or not it's something to be feared or simply properly respected. She'd always erred on the side of the latter, trusting the Keepers and their Firsts and Seconds to wield magic with the same gravity with which they led their Clans, but this—
This was horror. No personal sacrifice, but sacrifice of others. Mass sacrifice, to bring about some gargantuan grotesque creature from the Fade. Spirit. Demon. Something that makes the small hairs on the back of her neck rise with instinctive fear even through the intervening years.
This Anders had not mentioned.