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These are the souls that gods feast upon. No one loves you more than someone who has no one else.
Spoken like someone who didn’t know how good I was at slapping people awake. Couldn’t even count the number of times I’d done it on Raihn. Blessed hands.
“We all have ghosts in our pasts, Iliae. We can’t give them the power to define our futures, too.”
And he was smiling in a way that made the entire world stop, a smile that reminded me of the way the sun looked when it crested the horizon the first time I saw it at the Citadel, and I had thought, I am home.
“You are so much more than this. And it would be a waste to throw all that magnificence away—for what? Because the sun told you to hate yourself? No. I won’t allow that.”
“What are you doing?” I asked. “Praying with you,” he said. As if it were obvious. “I thought you didn’t believe in prayer.” “I don’t,” he said. “But you do.”
This man who devoted himself eternally to righting wrongs and fixing the broken things that no one else cared about. This man who saw light in the darkness and heard music in the silence.
