Status Updates From The Starving Saints

“One of her fragments, a haphazard translation of the works of somebody only credited as "the weeping philosopher" —a man who died of œdema some six hundred years ago —describes the soul as measured in fire and water. Water, for soft growing things; fire, for the element that transcends death. An everliving flame, not constant, but shifting in its parts, some extinguishing, some springing up to life.”

“Her teachers in the Priory would have demanded proof. Measurement, replicable observation, a mechanism of action. And she understands the appeal. Certainty feels safe. But certainty is also limiting. Certainty did not purify Aymar's water.”

2/2 Each stinger throbbed where it rested in her skin, and the too-perfect Lady had looked down at her, face immobile. No benediction, no offer of salvation— just silent judgment, and then She'd turned and walked away.”

1/2 “She knows how quickly a single beesting can multiply to hundreds, courtesy of her desperate attempt to tear a wild hive open to get at the honey within. They stung her bleeding and raw. She had nearly died.
She'd fled, then collapsed in a meadow where, swollen and still starving, she'd dreamed of the Constant Lady.

“Half of it is her squandered faith, trampled in the dirt five years ago and never quite recovered; the Constant Lady does not have a saint for her, no Vengeful Saint or Starving Saint. No true balm for her bitterness, no witness and no succor.”

Didn’t realize this was a horror novel when I bought this