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by
Laini Taylor
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December 5 - December 5, 2023
It was one of those dreams that invade the space between seconds, proving sleep has its own physics—where time shrinks and swells, lifetimes unspool in a blink, and cities burn to ash in a mere flutter of lashes.
perhaps Fate laid out your life for you like a dress on a bed, and you could either wear it or go naked.
There is intimacy in pain. Anyone who has comforted a sufferer knows it—the helpless tenderness, the embrace and murmur and slow rocking together as two become one against the enemy, pain.
“Dead souls dream only of death,” the resurrectionist told the emperor. “Small dreams for small men. It is life that expands to fill worlds. Life is your master, or death is. Look at you. You are a lord of ashes, a lord of char. You are filthy with your victory. Enjoy it, Joram, for you will never know another. You are lord of a country of ghosts, and that is all that you will ever be.”
“As long as you’re alive, there’s always a chance things will get better.”
Mercy breeds mercy as slaughter breeds slaughter. We can’t expect the world to be better than we make it.”
Her courage was a guise. She wondered if courage always was, or if there were those who truly felt no fear.