Leilana stopped short of the towers, awed by their beauty,
their power.
Yes, they still held sway over her, even twelve long years
after she'd gone. Now, as she hovered
over the dunes on a stolen helioboard, less than a parcel from the towers, she
wondered if she even had a place there anymore.
Would they even let her in? Did
they dare?
Leilana licked her chapped lips to no avail. Her mouth was too parched, gritty with
sand. Her guide had abandoned her many
parcels ago, taking her provisions with him.
Ethan's threats had gotten to the poor bastard, probably. And the copter in the distance? No doubt it, too, belonged to Ethan and he
was looking for her. Ethan had
promised—threatened—never to let her go without a fight. Fucker.
As she saw it, Leilana had but two choices: turn and rush over the sands as fast as the
helioboard would carry her, away from the towers, away from Ethan, away, away…
perhaps to burn up in the desert heat or to be eaten by the
wandering Heglans or to perish from a thousand other dangers.
Or onward. To the
gate.
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