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“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.”
“Be unrelenting and unmerciful in the face of the wicked dead,”
“And if you should find soul sundered from flesh, order a drink for us at the first tavern you come across in the afterlife. We’ll settle the tab when we get there.”
That you’d shine so brilliantly that you’d light up hell itself and guide me out of the darkness.
Kingfisher of the Ajun Gate was on his knees in the dirt. He was broken and bleeding, but his promise of retribution was still terrifying enough to make a queen tremble.
He is the storm. You are the peace that must come after it. Tell me, do you believe in the fates, Alchemist?
