Wild ​Reverence

by Rebecca Ross

I would rather be feared than ever be loved.”

War only makes love flame brighter, defiant. It seems to bloom from the bloodshed you leave behind, unfurling from the most unlikely places. From the broken seams of the world. From the graves and the anguish and the fear you inspire.”

Death was moonlight on a sword, an ocean eddy at high tide. Ephemeral and vicious and cold, like frost over iron.

“She is too soft for this,” he said. “Then make her like iron.”

I wanted to resist my feelings, how they crept over me like moss. But I bowed to them. And I wondered how it was possible for my heart to miss something that I had never experienced.

From across the room, he said, “My wife will have anything she wants.”

sorry vincent i was unaware of your game