Stories take on a life of their own, don’t they? They’re creatures carried gently by word and voice, but never quite bound. Long after the last line falls hushed, I can still hear the clang of swords and the cries of my heroes — proof that they travel even beyond the tongue. Yes, stories speak to us like none among the living can.”
“Words are powerful and dangerous things — uttered in an instant, yet lasting for an age. They touch the heart, change the mind, and feed the spirit. With nothing else can the truth be bent. The man who understands this may hold the whole realm captive upon his tongue.”
Sleep offers you no reprieve … it’s merely the stage upon which your nightmares dance.”
As he stared at the ground between them, he began to understand the weight of blood. It couldn’t settle every score. It couldn’t right every wrong. Blood, when spilled for a purpose, could be worth its weight in gold. But he’d never much cared for gold. No, there were far greater treasures to be had … gifts that only life could give.
“You told me once that I shouldn’t regret things, and now I see why. Mistakes are just part of our stories, aren’t they? We can’t always choose which monsters will rise in our path, but we can choose to face them. Our choices carry us to our ends.”
Kyleigh scowled at him. “Do you honestly believe that Fate’s forsaken you just because of the day you were born?” “Do you honestly believe you can’t love me just because some great crone in the sky says it’s Abomination?” he countered with a smirk.
“Who would’ve thought? I suppose Fate has better things to do than smite us.”
Jake sighed heavily. “I’m never going to be useful, am I? I suppose I ought to just stick with blowing things up.”