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September 6 - September 8, 2025
Of course she could make or unmake the world. Have you met her? Anyone who had wouldn’t be surprised.
“Billions of threads,” she murmured, “and not a single one where you say no.”
Her gaze took me in, traveling over my face, seeing more than I ever had intended to show her. “Hello, Warden,” she whispered. “Hello, Dawndrinker.”
And a voice, quiet and booming at once, said, “Get your hands off my wife.”
People will do anything for hope.
She looked at me with such abject, undeserved affection. It made me think of how a sunrise I’d never witnessed must feel.
“For whatever of your mistakes, Mische Iliae,” he said, quietly, firmly, “for whatever of your faults, for whatever unintended pains you may bring this world, I will love you anyway.”
“And I will never stop telling you that you were incredible, because you were, and you are, and don’t you dare ever be ashamed of it,” he went on. “Now stop arguing with me and drink, so I can keep watching you bring the world to its knees.”
“I love you,” she whispered. “I love you, Asar Voldari, Warden of Morthryn, king of the underworld, heir of Alarus. I love you, and in this life or the next, worlds mortal or divine, I will never let you go.”
“That’s the cost of a future, Warden,” she said. “It’s hard work, to make the choice to do better every single night for the rest of your life.
