“I will see that the hymns are written across your body.” He motions to the markings on my skin, a single finger dragging against my collarbone. “But placing them on your soul is something only you can do through singing them yourself. And every word you sing will come at a cost. You will have to make space for this new power. And when you—” “Enough. Say it plainly,” I demand. Firm. But not harsh. I know when a man is stalling. “Every word of the hymns of the old ones that you learn will eat away at your mind—at your memories. And you must let it happen. Otherwise you will go mad from trying
...more
