Dragoncrest Cliffs i pull god's roots out

Artaax still doesn’t say anything but there’s enough (or, rather, not enough) on his face to know he’s at least been heard. He wasn’t the smartest of the litter, Robin figures, so he puts all his attention on Blixen. It isn’t the kind he wants from his sister but she’s the only one talking to him.
 
“She said it was the last message the commanders gave her,” he tries but reliving the conversation is hard enough. If he could tell them every detail, every word she said, every ounce of pain and peace writ across her face. “I tried to tell her she was wrong, that… after all she’d done recently?” he says and goes quiet, biting his lip and turning away from the pair of them. She’d at least given him a night, a night for her to spend time with him, to see Blixen and Artaax again before she’d found the place, but it’s not enough. The last moments weren’t enough for any of them. “Drageda is yours, Wormana,” he then says, looking back to her.