The Demon in the Wood (The Shadow and Bone Trilogy, #0.5)

by Leigh Bardugo

Fear is a powerful ally, but feed it too often, make it too strong, and it will turn on you.

“The first men to see bears thought they were monsters. My power is unfamiliar, not unnatural.” “A bear is still dangerous,” noted the Ulle. “It still has claws and teeth to maul a man.” “And men have spears and steel,” she said sharply.

places like this barely felt real, as if they might just slip away into nothing, vanishing without notice or regard.

“You read the flow of power the way others chart tides,” she marveled. “It will make you a great leader.”

“Your true name is written here,” she said tapping his chest. “Tattooed on your heart. You don’t let just anyone read it.”

These were the trees he liked best, the kind that never lost their green, that always smelled of sap. In woods like these, it felt like summer was still alive, as if a sun were buried in every rough trunk like a warm, dormant heart.

Amplifiers were rare, hard to find, harder to hunt. Their lives would be forfeit.

Deep blue like the True Sea. Red like the roofs of the Shu temples. The pure, buttery color of sunlight—not really yellow or gold, what would you call it? All the colors you couldn’t see in the dark.

He could belong to this place. He could have a home, maybe even friends. And friends went on adventures. They broke rules together.

He was aware of the way men looked at his mother. It was one more weapon in her arsenal.

“Gentle. She used to sing us to sleep. I told her I was too old for lullabies. I regret that every night now.”

She spoke his true name, the one she only used when they trained, the name tattooed on his heart. A heart that had not stopped beating. A heart that still had life.

I would burn a thousand villages, sacrifice a thousand lives to keep you safe. It would be us on that pyre if you hadn’t thought quickly.” Then her shoulders slumped. “But I cannot hate that boy and girl for what they tried to do. The way we live, the way we’re forced to live—it makes us desperate.”

“The Ulle is right,” she said. “There is no safe place. There is no haven. Not for us.” He understood then. The Grisha lived as shadows did, passing over the surface of the world, touching nothing, forced to change their shapes and hide in corners, driven by fear as shadows were driven by the sun. No safe place. No haven. There will be, he promised in the darkness, new words written upon his heart. I will make one.