Age of Myth (The Legends of the First Empire, #1)

by Michael J. Sullivan

Sunlight had a way of showing the realities that shadows born of firelight hid.

The metal of his blade had broken, but the mettle of the man rang true.

I’m sure ants consider mice to be gods, too.

“Fulfillment comes from striving to succeed, to survive by your own wits and strength. Such things make each of us who we are.” Using the blanket, he rubbed his hair. “You lose that in captivity, lose yourself, and that loss saps your capacity for joy. I think comfort can be a curse, an addiction that without warning or notice erodes hope.

“Live with it long enough and the prison stops being the walls or the guards. Instead, it’s the fear you can’t survive on your own, the belief you aren’t as capable, or as worthy, as others. I think everyone has the capacity to do great things, to rise above their everyday lives; they just need a little push now and then.”

“What exactly do you suppose is common about me? And why would you rely on random, unverified conclusions of ordinary people who presume absurd notions like The sun will rise each day merely because in their existence it always has? By that same logic, they should live forever. And I can assure you they won’t. You disappoint me, Gryndal.”

Fools believe silence is a void needing to be filled; the wise understand there’s no such thing as silence.