Aveline observed him carefully. The shadows around his face twisted and shifted as he debated whether to tell her the truth. For a moment, she could almost see the argument happening inside his mind.
Then the colors settled.
Aveline tilted her head.
"So?" she asked.
Aelion let out a breath.
"Tales of heroes and saviors are always plentiful when people suffer," he said. "Every generation creates legends. Every generation resurrects old ones."
"And what kind of legend do you think I am?" Aveline asked.
"The kind that stands beside the people against those who oppress them." His expression grew serious.
"The kind blessed by Goddess Lioraen, the Veiled Mother of the Vulnerable."
Aveline raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that a bit much?"
Being compared to a goddess's chosen champion seemed absurd enough. She had nearly fallen out of a dormitory window this morning.
A soft laugh escaped her as she shook her head and continued walking.
