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I am the Bloodcrafted descendant of King Arthur. I am a Rootcrafter and Legendborn, or I was before I deserted both groups. Now I am the Shadow King’s bloodmarked investment. I am a power source that I’ve asked him to teach and help grow, even as he plans to use my power to eventually help him triumph over the Order we both despise. With him, I will become a weapon—one he will wield when I am strong enough.
“Two demands, and only one fulfilled. You owe me, Briana.” His smile spreads. “We are as good as Oathbound, you and I.”
“What is a bargain if not an oath? And what is an oath if not a promise with a price? Call these what you will. All are cut from the same cloth—a cloth woven of intention, will, and sacrifice.
“Greedy men collect what they cannot understand, and weak men destroy what they cannot control. A man who is both will attempt to recreate that which is beyond his comprehension, obliterating the original in the process.”
“I will build you into a girl whom no one can destroy. You won’t need a weapon. You’ll become one.”
The power that felt like freedom a day ago can just as easily cause my downfall. Blood in the water, drawing ravenous sharks.
“A bloodmark has two purposes: it permanently binds a human to their agreed-upon debt, enforcing that they will pay when the time comes, and it marks for other demons that the bounty that human possesses is already claimed and cannot be bargained away to another. In this case, I marked Briana’s ancestor but have not yet taken my payment, so she was born with my mark, having inherited it from her maternal bloodline.”
“Briana’s source of power is truly unique on this plane,” Erebus continues. “An unending furnace Bloodcrafted into her body via an unregulated bargain made between her ancestor Vera and the spirits of the dead to whom Vera pleaded for aid. Unbeknownst to Vera, I joined that open plea to stake my claim on the furnace within a future daughter in exchange for providing a measure of protection to her descendants. When someone attempts to consume Briana’s magic forcibly, my bloodmark flares her power to life, burning the thief away.”
The Shadow King is a demon who is equally incentivized to both make me stronger and prevent my death at the hands of anyone else. A demon who, I must begrudgingly admit, appears willing to teach.
“Chaos favors imbalance,
“simply wielding your power is nothing compared to consuming it. If a Merlin’s gradual turn toward their demon nature is a slow descent, then the absorption of your power is an accelerated, fathomless plummet. Any Merlin who feeds on your power”—he pauses, with intention—“whomever they are, would be wholly consumed by the raw instincts of demonia.
“This is what leaders do, child. Find each other and wring out what only their equal can provide. Remember that you called for me. I was there when the first
“Some oaths, Briana,” Erebus murmurs, “we make to ourselves. And to no one else.”
“I’m no healer or doctor or anything.” I give him a small, soft smile and shrug. “But I can sense it when death knows someone well.”
“If treason is truth, then perhaps I do. Or perhaps I merely tire of your version of loyalty.”
no one dead or alive can control Briana Matthews.”
but there are intentions and there is reality… and it seems I am forever caught between the two.
Sometimes you need another voice to press itself into you and remind you that you’re right to say the scary thing, even if that scary thing is absolutely true.
Maybe it’s not about having the answer, but making yourself the answer. “Not having a plan but becoming the plan,”
there is a difference between “memories” and “knowledge.” I don’t lack memories—what I lack is information.
Cowardice and bigotry don’t have to have faces. Their actions speak loudly enough.
“You don’t think it’s messed up that he’s taking advantage of human bigotry and apathy?” “I tend to be more furious at humanity for cultivating and perpetuating said bigotry and apathy,” Elijah says with an air of finality, “so, no.”
Nearly every culture on the planet has produced a quest story, although they may call these journeys by different names. While the purpose of a quest is often defined as an external achievement—slay the dragon, save the maiden—the true end product is not external but internal.” He looks at me. “The beginning of a quest is often loss. A great and necessary loss, to spark the first step down the road unknown.”
Greedy men collect what they cannot understand.
I hate that I’ve met death frequently enough to understand how to survive its arrival.
“Well, the thing about making people like us stronger is that, given enough freedom, we’ll find a way to use that strength against the very assholes who wish to control it.”
Lies are easiest when they are close to the truth.
“I don’t appreciate mysteries, but that’s because I much prefer truths,”
When I finally whisper, “And if I want to burn it all to the ground?” His answer is a quick grin against my lips. “My blade is yours.”
“While we know ourselves best, we don’t always know what we’re capable of doing or becoming”—he pauses, thinking—“and we can always choose new paths if we need to.” I swallow around a lump. “Rules can change.”
“You had to fail, Bree. You had to fall.” “Why?” I exclaim. “Because you had to rise.” He steps closer. “A true leader has to know every side of her battle: the wins, the losses, the enemies, the allies, the good, and the bad. And she has to know who has her back, without the titles and legacies.”
You had to fall… because you had to rise.
Loving folks is a practice.
Guilt and shame won’t help me here. They arrest motion, and now is the time to act.
Love. Trust. Both a practice,
