Year One (Chronicles of the One, #1)

by Nora Roberts

“The shield would be broken, the fabric torn, by the blood of the Tuatha de Danann. So now the end and the grief, the strife and the fear—the beginning and the light. I ne’er thought to live for it.”

“So now between the birth and the death of time, power rises—both the dark and the light—from the long slumber. Now begins the blood-soaked battle between them. And with the lightning and a mother’s birth pangs comes The One who wields the sword. The graves are many, with yours the first. The war is long, with no ending writ.” Pity moved over her

Immune to the virus, doomed anyway. That’s the reality, Lana.

And, I fear, that what H5N1-X leaves us, all of us, will not destroy us, but the fear and violence it breeds in those of us who give in to it—the forced restrictions on freedom—could.”

You have to think of the positive, of the light, or the dark takes over.”

You have to prepare for the worst, Arlys thought, the incomprehensible worst or you could die in the dark.

Tears wash some of the worst away.”

“Major, monumental crises bring out the best or the worst in us—sometimes both. And sometimes those major, monumental crises have no effect on certain types. Which means, no matter what the circumstances, assholes remain assholes.”

“People are what people are,” Jonah commented.

People need stories, Max, and the ones who tell them.

“To make the Savior is your fate. Life out of death, light out of dark. To save the Savior is your fate. Life out of death, light out of dark.” He rose, went to her. He didn’t touch her, didn’t speak as she stared through the window with eyes as deep as the night. “Power demands sacrifice to reach its terrible balance. It calls for blood and tears, and still it feeds on love and joy. You, son of the Tuatha de Danann, have lived before, will live again. You, sire of the Savior, sire of The One, embrace the moments and hold them dear, as moments are fleeting and finite. But life and light, the power of what will come, the legacy within, are infinite.” Lana took his hand, pressed it to the sweet mound of her belly. “She is. A heart beating, wings fluttering, light stirring. She is the sword shining, the bolt that strikes true. She is the answer to questions not yet asked.

And the light shineth in the darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.

“Something’s coming. It all changes. Something’s coming. It always was. Something’s coming. It ends. It begins.”

“So many of us lost pieces of ourselves. But we found pieces, too. Found things inside ourselves we didn’t know were there. We’re alive,” she repeated. “Maybe it’s time to celebrate that. It’s nearly the solstice.”

“Into yours on the windswept night. And lightning heralds the birth of The One. Will you teach her to ride, and think she was born knowing? I teach her the old ways, what I can, but she has so much more. Safe, time out of time, while the dark rages. Until in the Book of Spells, in the Well of Light she takes her sword and shield. And with the rise of magicks she takes her place. She will risk all to fulfill her destiny, this precious child of the Tuatha de Danann. For this she grows in me, for this she comes into your hands.”

The way I see it, the biggest problem we’ve had, right from the get, is people pointing fingers and worse at ones who aren’t just like them. We ought to try to do better this time around. It might be our last chance to get it right.”