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I know it’s time to return home as surely as I know the songs of the forest in my heart. No matter how far I traveled, the sorrow of the trees never left me, and I long to see them once more.
Magic is a fickle thing, needing a capable and highly trained user to be effective, and gauging high-fae magic is like trying to catch sunlight in a glass—fantastical and impossible.
She murmurs for my ears, though all the high fae in the room are privy to it, “Your people will wither and die, all while you're busy pouting about your fate. When you realize your mistake, you’ll have to beg me for my help, and still, I'll refuse to give it, because you're nothing but a useless, arrogant male. The regent might be drinking and dancing his way to ruin, but you're right alongside him, riding a horse with a sword into the very depths of darkness and taking your whole kingdom with you.”
Prince Soren deserves to be burned to nothing but ash. I should never have helped any of them, should’ve left them all to the consequences of their actions.
yep pretty much 👍🏻
She steps through the shield, unharmed and determined, and moving faster than I ever thought possible, she launches into battle. Her sword cuts through the witches there, the light of her magic bursting forth and cleaving them apart—it’s a massacre the likes of which I’ve never seen before. Alone and with no regard for her own safety, the witch fights for Yregar.
EXACTLY SOREN, u CUNT, NOW GROVEL
I don’t have the heart for such a question; their death is all I crave as penance for their crimes, but it’ll never be enough. No amount of bloodshed and torture could ever atone for the Ravenswyrd Coven and the hundreds of others lost here.
I hold out a hand to her with the intention of carrying her behind me on Nightspark for the trip back to Yregar, but she stares at my hand like it's a death curse. When her eyes flick up to meet mine, she grimaces. “That doesn't look like begging to me. I'd rather walk until my feet bleed.”
ahahaha destroy him
We move as though we're dancing around each other, an intricate pattern of steps as we circle and refuse to make the first move. Whether we’re making amends or killing each other makes no difference; the dance is the same.
