The Core (The Demon Cycle, #5)

by Peter V. Brett

There are times a leader must remain firm, even when they are in the wrong.

“I’d like to introduce you to my Warded Children,” Leesha called to the demons as they shrieked and batted at the flames beginning to spark on their skin. “We don’t like the way you’ve been treating Mum,” Stela said.

“A father’s fear for his children does not fade when they grow, Par’chin.”

“Seen your kind fight. When I killed one, its brothers didn’t lift a claw to help. Rather die for sentiment than live in a world without it.”

War is, at its crux, deception, Dama Khevat taught. A great leader must hold his deceit so close that even he himself does not think on it until the time to strike.

I don’t pretend to see the path, Tender Jona told him before the Battle of Cutter’s Hollow, but I know it’s there all the same. One day, we’ll look back and wonder how we ever missed it.

The Creator did not give humans wards. Humans created them out of unified need. Alone, the symbols had no power. It was the resolve of their makers, the hope and prayers of the masses huddling behind them.

“Done this before?” Jardir shook his head. “Never. Birthing is the purview of the dama’ting. But I do not believe Everam and the Deliverer could see us through such darkness only to abandon us now.” Renna squeezed his hands. “We get through this, you’ll be the rippin’ Deliverer, Ahmann.”