Empire of the Damned (Empire of the Vampire, #2)

by Jay Kristoff

“The storybooks are full of fools who died for love,” Jean-François murmured. “That they are,” the silversaint nodded, rubbing his stubble. “And though it might mark me a fool also, I’m glad for that fact, Historian. If you fight for nothing? That’s exactly what you’ll give to defend it. But if you fight for something worthwhile—I mean something that truly matters—there’s no length you won’t go to. Brotherhood. Famille. Loyalty. Love. All worth trying for. All worth dying for. In the end, that’s what makes us different from you, vampire. And that which makes us different, makes us mighty.”

Dior had shown me there was something yet to believe in, and though we were flame and powder, fire and ice, I knew I could love her no more dear than if she were my own. Sometimes famille is more than blood, vampire. And when all is said and done, when the cheering stops and the music fades, when the stories they tell about you drift into silence, and the songs they sing are stolen by the lonely winter wind, a man is left with the simplest of truths.” “What truth, Gabriel?” Jean-François murmured. “That there is nothing that grows as deep on this green earth, nothing that shines as bright in all the gables of heaven, nothing that burns as fierce in the blazing heart of hell, than a parent’s love for their child.”

“From holy cup comes holy light; “The faithful hand sets world aright. “And in the Seven Martyrs’ sight, “Mere man shall end this endless night. “Before the Five, come unto one, “With sainted blade, ’neath virgin sun, “By sacred blood, or else by none; “This blackened veil shall be undone.”