“You’re marauders,” I breathed.
The rogue crossed his arms. “Noticed, did you?”
I stared, but didn’t say anything.
Before the Hellions, marauders had controlled the skies. Daring and deadly pirates, they had staged raids through the clouds, capturing any vessels they could and disappearing before they could be caught. They’d been a threat all over Aon, but were at constant war with the Sky Guards of Westraven where trade was highest. They’d played bloody games of cat and mouse, until the Discovery.
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