The Fallen and the Kiss of Dusk (Crowns of Nyaxia #4)

by Carissa Broadbent

But in the end, he loses her every time.

When I died, it did not feel like the peaceful end to a grand fight. It felt like the beginning of one.

One little wisp is enough to illuminate an entire world. True darkness was very rare.

Mische Iliae would be remembered by the bones of time itself, and I knew it because I would write her story there with my blood if I had to.

As if the gods had seen some beauty in mortality but failed to realize that the imperfection of it was what made it remarkable.

“Billions of threads,” she murmured, “and not a single one where you say no.”

“Remember the anger. This is what makes you great.”

But Asar dabbed my tears one by one. “Let them come.”

It was hard to question what kept you alive, even if it did terrible things with the life it gave you.

He hadn’t looked like that when I’d driven that arrow through his throat, though.

bars

“Sun take me, Mische, just get into the bed and drink.”

“No,” he growled. “No, you’ve never taken enough.”

“I think it’s best if only one of us is dead at a time,” I said.

Mische....my favorite character

“It doesn’t matter if I believe in it,” he said. “I certainly don’t trust it.”

Sylina at last said, “That’s inconvenient.”

love her

Funny, how I’d never experienced the sensation of the sun falling over my face. But every time, I was so certain that it must feel something like Mische’s presence.

“Maybe greatness should come not from the sacrifices you make, but the ones you refuse to.”

Quick and painless. But still unfair.

Those nightmares felt just like this.

“I don’t care.” The easiest answer I’d ever spoken. Perhaps the only time I, a man obsessed with answers, had ever said it.

“I don’t regret it,” I said again. “Which part?” she murmured. “Any of it, Mische.”

I loved the way Mische wanted.

I loved feeling. Feeling was wonderful!

I said, at last, “He makes me want a happy ending.”

But I couldn’t help the sense that perhaps we were like two celestial bodies in the sky. Him arcing from mortality to divinity. Me, from death to life. The two of us colliding for only a few ephemeral moments, magnificent in their impermanence.

Bars

Maybe none of it was enough. This one night. This one moment. This one fraction of a life I’ve had with her.

Through all of it, I kept fighting.

There are no more tales to tell. A god has no need of a mortal past.

oh word

“You took her from me,” she wept. “She deserved justice. I was promised justice.”

omg

“It always belonged to you,” he said.

“I could not let you go, Dawndrinker.”

At last, at peace.

But then, what walls had I ever had, with him?