The Eye of the Bedlam Bride (Dungeon Crawler Carl, #6)

by Matt Dinniman

But that’s just life. At least they fucking tried. They died with their boots on, as much as I hate that expression. They died with their boots on for their people, their family, not for some rich, nameless organization that gives no shits whether they live or die. Or go extinct. Or are trapped for a millennia after they’re done being used. In my opinion, that’s the only type of society that’s worth joining, worth fighting for. Sure, you’re probably gonna die. But if you find yourself in such a position where such an organization is necessary, what do you have to lose? How can you look at yourself if you don’t do everything you can?

I thought of Ren, and of the hopelessness that had broken her. Of all these crawlers who’d been forced to confront their own personal nightmares on this floor. Of my mother, who’d drowned in her own sorrow. Of the stepmother I’d never met, and what she’d done. Of the goddamned river that was so loud it was the only thing I could hear. It was loneliness. It had always been loneliness.

Imani stood next to us, and she wrapped us in her wings, filling us with warmth. “No matter what happens, none of us are getting out of this unscathed,” Imani said. “We gain things, and we lose them. That’s what happens in war. Thank you, Carl and Donut. Thank you for not giving up on me.” “We don’t give up on family,” I said. “Otherwise, what’s the point?”