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We will always want for time, Dayne. That is the human way. We would die waiting for the perfect moment that will never come.
“War is no different to peace. It is simply more honest. Do not hesitate, do not contemplate mercy. Remember everything I have taught you.”
To say that Dayne would miss her would be the gravest of understatements. For a parent is to a child what sun is to a flower.
“Part of me did die that day. Unfortunately for you, it was the kinder part.”
“You should have,” Dayne replied, rising to his full height. “But now, Harsted Arnim, I am the harbinger of your death. I have come to cast judgement over you, just as you did that day.”
“Love, my son, cannot be quantified by how and why. It is the intangible tether that connects your heart to others. It holds no conditions or rules, for if it did, it would not be love, but simply convenience. It is not found in the ‘because’, it is found in the ‘and yet’. Your father is strong, compassionate, and understanding, but it is not because of those things that I love him. Rather, they are why I admire him. He is also foolhardy, pig-headed, and he always says the wrong things. And yet, I love him anyway.”
I would say that it is better to die for the ones you love and for what you believe than it is to live knowing that you could have done something but didn’t.
“It is never weak to grieve for the ones you love.” Dayne’s father had said that the day he had found Dayne weeping over the body of his grandmother. Dayne had tried to wipe away his tears, but his father had stayed his hand. “To hide your tears is to do them a disservice. They have earned your love. Let them have it.”
To call the sound that left her mouth a scream would be to call thunder a whisper.”
“So she can live broken in the place where she broke me. So she can live every second of her long life and feel every single drop of pain.”
A storm swept through him as he dropped to his knees. Leaning forwards, he wrapped his fingers around tufts of grass and ripped them from the earth, screaming until his voice cracked and tears streamed from his eyes. Seven years he had hunted Sylvan. All that time, her blood was all he wanted. Vengeance. Vengeance for his mother. Vengeance for his father. Vengeance for everything she had taken from him. But when he had held that blade to her neck and saw the whimpering mess she had become, it had all just felt… empty.
