If Reed was the prince of peaceful forests and snowless mountains, Nash was the king of smoke, and ashes, and lies. He was the fire that ravaged those forests and the ashes that rained down on those mountains. I wanted to inhale his smoke, coat my tongue with his ashes, and bury myself in his lies. But smoke ruined lungs. Ashes tasted like death. And lies blinded dreamers. I was a dreamer. He was a nightmare.
