Morning Star (Red Rising, #3)

by Pierce Brown

our lives mean so much more than the frail bodies that carry them.

“You and I keep looking for light in the darkness, expecting it to appear. But it already has.” I touch his shoulder. “We’re it, boyo. Broken and cracked and stupid as we are, we’re the light, and we’re spreading.”

I pace my bridge like a caged wolf, his meal just beyond the bars. The kindness of me hidden again behind the Reaper’s savage face.

Body trembles. Mouth full of ashes. Wear the mask. Hide the man. Feel nothing. See everything. Move and kill. Move and kill. I am not a man. They are not men. The chanting swells….“Syn tjr rjyka!” Fear is not real. If you’re watching, Eo, it’s time to close your eyes. The Reaper has come. And he’s brought hell with him.

It’s a lonely thing carrying the body of someone dead and loved.

anything that believes only in itself cannot go happily into the night.

If pain is the weight of being, love is the purpose.