Of Empires and Dust (The Bound and The Broken, #4)

by Ryan Cahill

For grief is not a constant thing. It is a monster that does not kill its prey but plays with it, torments it. Grief is not an obstacle to be overcome. It is an injury that must be accommodated. It never leaves, only waits.

We are flawed, all of us, but I suppose it is not the existence of flaws that destroys us but our willingness to bow to them.

“Every soul has a thousand lives not lived, born of a thousand choices not made and a thousand paths not walked, Eltoar. We must not dwell on those other lives. They are ghosts, and if we let them, they will haunt us. Look forward. There are more choices to make, more paths to walk, more life to live.”

Books were a thing of insurmountable beauty and power. Be they immense repositories of knowledge, transcendent works of philosophical quandaries, or transportational tales, they were a thing to be cherished and adored. But there were some that were a waste of the precious paper on which they were printed. Some that would have been better off as trees. And a common factor amongst those particular books, he found, was a lack of passion and a lack of purpose.

“Lies are a strange thing. What they are changes with what we need. They are necessary. They are evil. They are white. They are black. A lie is what we are willing to accept. Would I lie to Valdrin in order to keep him safe? Yes, I think I would. Because I am willing to become the thing he hates as long as it means I have kept him safe and warm and loved. That is my task as a mother. I hope he loves me. I hope he thinks the world of me, because if he didn’t, it would break my heart. And yet, as a mother, I’m willing for my heart to be broken to ensure his is whole.”