Something in Lorn, the part of him that kept him wary, the part that held him safe, shied away from that pretty, silver book. All at once, he knew … he knew … that this was the beginning of something irrevocable. Laying his hand on this book would be the act that separated his life neatly into two portions—the one he had lived before this moment and the one after—and he was not sure if this would be the making of him or the destruction of everything he was.
