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

by Carissa Broadbent

This is the tale of how a fallen one ascends. Long ago, I told you a tale of a chosen girl who fell to the darkness. Now I will tell you the tale of a boy who was born within it.

This is the tale of how a fallen one ascends. He does it in countless cascading decisions, over years, over centuries. He does it with the desperation of a starving soul willing to sacrifice anything, everything, for a single chance at redemption. But in the end, he loses her every time.

every weakness could become a strength if you embraced it enough.

She felt mortal. Fragile and fading like a smothered flame.

“There is no map for the path we must walk in times like this,” Vincent said. “But we must seize the chances that are given to us.

“Mische Iliae, Dawndrinker or Shadowborn, living or dead, I will never let you go.”

“Because I’ve learned that you can’t live on grief,” I said. “It’s poison. It festers into bitterness and hatred. If you have nothing else to offer a heart, grief will just hollow it out until that’s all that you are.

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

“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.”

You can do a lot of good in this world, Asar Voldari. Don’t you dare give up on it now, when it needs you most.”

I’d hated my scars for so long, but now, I was grateful I had them.