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Sometimes, objects shook around me. Objects made of iron, tin, or gold.
Do you know much about metalwork, Captain? I do. It’s under the most unbearable conditions that the sharpest, most dangerous weapons are forged. And we are dangerous, Captain. She’s turned us all into weapons. That is why she won’t suffer my people to live.”
She’d squawked when he’d thrown me unceremoniously down onto my bed and snarled, “Bad human,” at me.
“I taught you a valuable lesson that will serve you well for the rest of your very short human life in this realm. Always pay attention to the fine print. The devil’s in the details. Now go.”
To avoid far more serious pain, sometimes we have to endure a little sting.
To me, Kingfisher was a surly, foul-mouthed bastard who I wouldn’t piss on even if he was on fire. To everyone inside this tavern, he was a living fucking god.
His heart was racing, the space between beats negligible.
‘Never forget. Monsters thrive best in the dark. Commit all you read here to memory. Prepare for war!!’
“Because she is moonlight. The mist that shrouds the mountains. The bite of electricity in the air before a storm. The smoke that rolls across a battlefield before the killing starts. You have no idea what she is. What she could be. You should call her Majesty.”
If he showed cruelty in the face of kindness, then he deserved to be miserable and alone.
And thus ends the ballad of the king and his eight.
We remember, so the Alchemist remembers.
“I name you Avisiéth. The Unsung Song. Redemption’s Dawn.”
She is the dawn. She is the moon. She is the sky. She is oxygen in our lungs.
“Don’t you dare die on my watch, Saeris Fane! Fisher will never forgive me if his sole reason for living is torn to pieces on her first fucking battlefield.”
Kingfisher turned killing into an art form.
“I give you my blood in thanks, Saeris Fane.”
We are token. Key. Relic. Shield.
That’s what Oshellith means in Old Fae, Saeris. Most Sacred.”
“Fuck the fates. They don’t get to decide shit for me. I decide what my future is going to be.”
There were moments that were gifts, meant to be cherished only for as long as you could remember them.
“I’ll be grateful for every second that I can say that I belong to you, Saeris Fane. Eighty years or eighteen hours. It doesn’t matter to me. It’ll still be the highest honor of my life. But don’t—Are you about to have a heart attack? Your pulse is flying.” The bastard laughed, and I nearly burst into tears. “Don’t freak out. Here. Look.”
“My name is Carrion Swift. But there was a time when I was known as Carrion Daianthus. Firstborn son to Rurik and Amelia Daianthus.”
A small favor, then, the whisper said. We will do it for a favor. And for a restoration of balance. And for love.
“In nature, there is a counterweight to everything, child. Light has darkness. Life has death. Joy has sorrow. And good has evil. That law applies, no matter which realm you exist in,”
“Human, Fae, or vampire. It doesn’t matter how long you live, Saeris; you will always be most sacred to me.”
