More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
“In the monastery,” Mokoya said, “they taught us that fortune is both intractable and impartial. That when bad things happen, it’s the result of an incomprehensible and inhuman universe working as it does. The mountain shrugs, but thinks nothing of the houses crushed in the avalanche. That was not its purpose.”
“My personal belief? I don’t care about the fortunes. I care about doing whatever you can, with whatever’s in front of you. Because it’s the only thing you can do.”
“Good thing I don’t believe in the fortunes, then.” “You believe in the will of your Almighty. How is that different?”
“The Almighty decides our circumstances. He doesn’t decide our actions. It’s what He gave us free will for.” “So you chose rebellion.” “We chose to act. Rebellion was the Protectorate’s choice. They could easily have accepted our existence. But they didn’t.”
“The saying goes, ‘The black tides of heaven direct the courses of human lives.’ To which a wise teacher said, ‘But as with all waters, one can swim against the tide.’”
His gaze was unshakeable as it fixed on Akeha. “I chose to swim. So can you.”
“There are no righteous deaths,” Yongcheow whispered. “Only ones that cannot be avoided.”
Because he had always known, even as a child, that he was the lightning, while she was the fire in the core of planets. And the world needed both. Revolutions needed both. Someone had to wield the knives, but someone also had to write the treaties.
The air felt wrong. Something lingered in it, worming through the Slack in glowing, infinitesimal paths. Coming down the hill toward the crater Akeha had put a barrier around himself, a protective layer of forest-nature just in case the blast had been toxic. That barrier was now under attack, being slowly clawed through by the changed air. As though the atoms of the dead things, too, had turned into ghosts that wanted to possess him. Wanted to drag him into dissolution with them.
With all the horrors in the world, it was easy to forget there were wonders too.
He was crossing the outer pavilions, one step after another, heading forward. There was the threshold of the Great High Palace; there were the endless stairs that would lead him away from all this. He did not slow down. He did not look back. He put one foot in front of the other, a lone figure traversing the wide spaces that had once defined him. It had begun to rain, the gray skies finally shedding their load. The drops pelted him, warm and thick on his face. He tasted air full of earth and sky. Below him Chengbee waited, growing and breathing and alive. Akeha walked and walked and walked.
