Find Me Their Bones (Bring Me Their Hearts, #2)

by Sara Wolf

‘That I could give the whole world of Arathess peace, I would. That there was some polymath contraption, some lever I could hit or button I could press that would give peace to all, know that I would die with my hand on it—’” “‘And still in death my skeleton would go on, the bones moving of their own accord, and my flesh feeding its furnace,’”

War only means something because death does. Death only means something because life does.

The real monster is not death. It is immortality. It is nothing changing, ever. It is that choking gray haze. It’s remaining the same for three years, trapped in a forest. It’s death being reduced to a joke. It is death meaning nothing, because then life, too, means nothing. I want to be human. I want to mean something again.

“I am you,” Evlorasin says. “We sing the same and Weep the same. My blood is your blood. This is never-goodbye.”

“I am Zera Y’shennria—the Starving Wolf,” I whisper. “And this is never-goodbye.”

“That life is not worth living.” His voice is hard. “If it’s not with you.”