House of Chains (Malazan Book of the Fallen, #4)

by Steven Erikson

Children from a dark house choose shadowed paths.

At night ghosts come In rivers of grief, To claw away the sand Beneath a man’s feet

‘Death is not an unkind fate,’ Darist said above him. ‘If she was a friend, you will miss her company, and that is the true source of your grief—your sorrow is for yourself. My words may displease you, but I speak from experience. I have felt the deaths of many of my kin, and I mourn the spaces in my life where they once stood. But such losses serve only to ease my own impending demise.’

I just wanted to know, Tavore, why you did it. And why you did not love me, when I loved you. I—I think that’s what I wanted to know. The boot lifted from her chest. But she could still feel its weight. Heavy. So very heavy… Oh, Mother, look at us now.

And now here I sit, on my brow a circlet of fire, and this kingdom I rule is naught but the host of my life’s recollections, unruly subjects, so eager for insurrection, to usurp the aged man from his charred throne and raise up younger versions one by one.

The heart is neither given nor stolen. The heart surrenders.’