Where the Dark Stands Still

by A.B. Poranek

He grimaces. “I preferred you when you were quiet.” “And I preferred you when you were a deer.”

His is a treacherous beauty, a rusałka’s beauty—enthralling and deceitful, good for nothing but tragedy.

“If I look like a monster,” he says roughly, “then no one will be surprised when I do monstrous things.”

if the world has not prepared a place for you, you must take up a hammer and chisel and carve one out for yourself.”

“You are not a monster, Liska Radost. You are sunlight, and you breathe life into everything you touch.”