Lucian looked at me, his eyes dark with gravity. "Mirael's guess was right. His words weren't in any known language. It was a cipher—a new tongue constructed from human Eryndic, elven Elvanys, and the Northern beast race's Gorrathi."
"I see..." I murmured, the silence in the room becoming suffocating.
My brother stepped forward, his expression harder than I'd ever seen it. "Lioren's last words were: 'Aeshma varan daeva… fraorenti ashem elyra. Vīspanam narem druj—ashavan… elyra vahishtem.'"
He began to break it down, his voice clinical but tense. "Aeshma means wrath. Varan means choose or creed. Daeva means false. Fraorenti means rise. Ashem means pure. Elyra means elves."
Lucian picked up the thread, his gaze fixed on the decoded parchment. "And vīspanam means all. Narem means humans. Druj means impure. Ashavan means righteous. Elyra is elves again, and vahishtem means highest or supreme."
