Sanctuary (Roman’s Chronicles, #1)

by Ilona Andrews

Above, a night sky gaped like a hole in existence, a spray of stars floating in its black depths.

“Chaos. The end of everything. Nav is the realm that protects us from that.” Roman ate another spoonful. “The name of the game is balance. Crops are planted in the spring, they grow, they are harvested, and then winter comes. Their roots and stems decay and nourish the earth. Chernobog is the one who makes that decay happen. As the remnants of the crops die, the soil rests and rejuvenates. Without winter, without the Goddess Morena, Chernobog’s wife and consort, there cannot be spring. One cannot just take and take. One must give back.”

But we are crops, Finn. We must grow, thrive, flourish, and die, to make room for other living creatures. Such is life.

“GOI ESI, ROMAN, MOY VOLHV.” Alive you are, Roman, my volhv.