Wild ​Reverence

by Rebecca Ross

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.”

If heartless gods can be made soft by such love, we are all doomed.

sleep did expose glimpses of the soul, but it also revealed fragments of reality.

The gods did not care what happened to us. They did not answer when we called upon them.

Mortals were entertainment for divines.

most gods viewed humankind in lackadaisical ways. They were fragile like milk teeth; they died with ease, and there was always another to fill the gaps their death made. Souls were constantly in the throes of death and birth, a cycle that we watched with numb hearts.

if I voice what I want, I will be doomed to never obtain it.

“He chose me first,” I replied. “He dreamt of me before I knew of him. His soul found mine before I even knew how to look for his.”

Change to immortals is a frightening thought. Change brings evolution, transformation. Unknown patterns and fate that cannot be predicted.