Wintersong (Wintersong, #1)

by S. Jae-Jones

Humans were not meant for isolation. We were not meant for loneliness.

“A candle unused is nothing but wax and wick,” I said. “I would rather light the flame, knowing it will go out, than sit forever in darkness.”

I was more than enough. More than my limitations, more than adequate, simply more.

If I did not sleep, tomorrow would never come.

This was the immortality humans were meant to have: to be remembered by those who loved us long after our bodies had crumbled into dust.