She Dreams in Blood (The Obsidian Path, #2)

by Michael R. Fletcher

The sun crushed my shoulders with glorious heat.

His indomitable will faded and cracked. His once far-seeing eyes blurred everything beyond a few strides. At two hundred and fifty some-odd years of age, he approached the end. There were limits, and he had reached them.

“Does everything have to have a future?” I asked. “No. But it does have to have the potential to have a future.” She cast a quick glance at me. “Going into something knowing it’s doomed is dumb.”

The world exists in a state of violent poverty because they don’t care enough to lead it.”

“People are happiest when striving, when working toward something. Life isn’t about the destination; it’s not about winning. It’s the fight, the struggle.

What she lacked in finesses and skill, she made up for in unleashed might. Stunned wizards came apart, their eyes bursting as they became geysers of bloody steam.

Every failure and tragedy befalling me and those I cared about was the result of my pathetic insecurity, my fear of being alone, and my inability to trust.

It was different now. I understood all too clearly. Love is a terrible thing. At least mine is.