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He was my father in name alone. Perhaps I didn’t have his blood, or his magic, or his immortality. But I had that ruthlessness. He had cultivated it in me, one thorn at a time.
Death isn’t frightening when weighed against an insignificant existence.”
“Nyaxia, Mother of Ravenous Dark, Womb of Night, of Shadow, of Blood. I give you Oraya of the Nightborn. She is the daughter my heart gave me, just as my heart made me your son. Her presence in the Kejari is the greatest gift I will ever offer you.”
“I’ve lived through some injustices in the last couple of centuries. Seen some fucking travesties. But one of the biggest, Oraya, is that anyone taught you that you should become anything other than exactly what you are.”
She forced herself to obey. Forced herself to look the boy she had loved right in the eyes until the last dregs of life seeped from them.
The blood that spilled over that marble floor, though… Those are the stains on one’s innocence that never fade.
“The sun’s going down,” I said. “Don’t you want one last look?” And Raihn didn’t hesitate—didn’t look away from me once—as he answered, “No,” and kissed me.
Nothing existed except for him and the light I had just snuffed out of this world.
