Along the Razor's Edge (The War Eternal, #1)

by Rob J. Hayes

The sure, unwavering knowledge that nothing we did or said meant a damned thing. A punishment worse than death. Irrelevance.

Gods are fucking arseholes. All of them.

We cling to things, familiar things, not because they are good for us, but because we are scared that the unknown might be worse.

Truth is a flood, waters rising while we hide inside homes of self-deception. There is a point where water starts gushing in under the door, through the cracks in the windows. You cannot hide from the truth, nor barricade against it.

"In a world of nightmares, I am what the darkness fears."

We are insular creatures. We rarely consider, truly contemplate how our actions affect others, affect the world around us. It is not selfishness or arrogance, it is simply a matter of perspective. Drop a pebble in a lake and the ripples will reach every bank. We cannot track every ripple, we cannot see every outcome. Consequence is defined by perspective. That same pebble dropped in the lake, affects a bird resting on the surface, and a fish swimming underneath in entirely different ways. And we cannot be expected to consider them all. Or maybe I'm rationalising, making excuses for my actions. For the violence I have caused.