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My wife had been a vision in life, and death had immortalised that beauty, the stars always seeming close to her, like she was their prized possession beneath their eternal roof. Though even they could not lay a claim to her that was deeper than mine. They could admire her all they wanted, but they could only envy the king who she had chosen as her keeper.
If you wish to defy the will of the stars, it would make sense to find a path unlit by their light after all.”
Her hand found mine in the dark. Always and forever, we found each other this way. No matter if all light was lost, our souls would unite across the boundaries of the universe, never to part.
“Besides, a hero is never going to be what it takes to bring my father down. He moulded me into a villain and so that’s what I am. For her. For him. Damnation isn’t good enough for that piece of shit. And heroics aren’t good enough for her. So hand me the fuse, oh Savage King, because I’m ready to burn it all.”
Because why should the circumstances of our birth or upbringing define all we are and all we ever can be? Why shouldn’t we all get to pick precisely who and what we want to be and tell destiny, providence, or circumstance to step aside so that we can make our own fates?
She’d been born to topple mountains and make the stars quake; she’d been born to ruin and rise.
