Pieces. A bit for someone here. A bit there. And sometimes they don't add up to anything whole. But you are so busy dancing. Delivering. You don't have time to notice. Or are afraid to notice. And then one day you have to look. And it's true. All of your pieces fill up other people's holes. But they don't fill your own.
Faith and science, I have learned, are two sides of the same coin, separated by an expanse so small, but wide enough that one side can't see the other. They don't know they are connected.
Faith and science, I have learned, are two sides of the same coin, separated by an expanse so small, but wide enough that one side can't see the other. They don't even know they're connected. Father and Lily were two sides of the same coin, I've decided, and maybe I am the space in between.
I walked up to Griz and poked him in the chest. Let me make this perfectly clear to you. Though some might seek to make it appear otherwise, I am not a bride to be bartered away to another kingdom, not a prize of war, not a mouthpiece for your Komizar. I am not a chip in a card game to be mindlessly tossed into the center of the pot, nor one to be kept in the tight fist of a greedy opponent. I am a player seated at the table alongside everyone else, and from this day forward, I will play my own hand as I see fit. Do you understand me? Because the consequences could be ugly if someone thought otherwise.
If ever there were three mismatched riders, it was us- the crown prince of Dalbreck, the Assassin of Venda, and the fugitive princess of Morrighan. Sons and daughter of three kingdoms, each bent on domination of the other two.
You have to make your peace with Kaden, and he with you. You are not on opposite sides anymore. Do you understand?
Somewhere beyond all that, on an unseeable horizon, was Morrighan and all the people who lived there, going about their lives, unaware. My brothers. Pauline. Berdi. Gwyneth. And more patrols like Walther's who would meet their deaths, as unaware as I had once been. I want to go with you. Where I was going was no place for Natiya. It was hardly a place for me.
Today was the day a thousand dreams would die and a single dream would be born.The wind knew. It was the first of June, but cold gusts bit at the hilltop citadelle as fiercely as deepest winter, shaking the windows with curses and winding through drafty halls with warning whispers. There was no escaping what was to come.
There aren't many berry bushes where I'm from.And just where would that be?His hand paused on a berry like it was a monumental decision whether to pluck it or not. He finally pulled and explained he was from a small town in the southernmost part of Morringhan. When I asked the name, he said it was very small and had no name....A town with no name? Really? How very odd. I waited for him to scramble, and he didn't disappoint me.It's only a region. A few scattered dwellings at most. We're farmers there. Mostly farmers. And you? Where are you from?...I took the berry still poised in his fingers and popped it in my mouth. Where was I from? I narrowed my eyes and smiled. A small town in the northernmost part of Morrighan. Mostly farmers. Only a regions, really. A few scattered dwellings. At most. No name.He couldn't restrain a chuckle. Then we come from opposite but similar worlds, don't we?
Snow. I wondered what it felt like. Aunt Bernette said it could be both soft and hard, cold and hot. It stung and burned when the wind pelted it through the air, and it was a gentle cold feather when it drifted down in lazy circles from the sky. I couldn't imagine it being so many things, and I wondered if she had taken license with her story as Father always claimed. I couldn't stop thinking of it.Snow.
I saw sadness when I looked at what was left of them. The demigods who had once controlled the heavens had been brought low, humbled to the point of death. I always imagined I heart their crumbled masterpieces singing an endless mourning dirge. I turned, looking at the wild grass shivering across the plateau. I see only reminders that nothing lasts forever, not even greatness.Some things last.I faced him. Really? And just what would that be?The things that matter.
The information. Every bit that of information that was ever in your brain. But the information is not the mind Jenna. That we've never accomplished before. What we've done with you is groundbreaking. We cracked the code. The mind is an energy that the brain produces. Think of a glass ball twirling on your fingertip. If it falls, it shatters into a million pieces. All the parts of a ball are still there, but it will never twirl with that force on your fingertip again. The brain is the same way.
Until one comes who is mightier,The one sprung from misery,The one who was weak,The one who was hunted,The one marked with claw and vine,The one named in secret,The one called Jezelia.
The dictionary says my identity should be all about being separate or distinct, and yet it feels like it is so wrapped up in others.
Of course you did. I took a step closer. You have strengths, Tavish, that I greatly admire. You're skills helped saved Rafe's and my lives, for which I'll always be indebted to you. But there are other kinds of strength too. Quiet, gentle ones that are just as valuable, even if you don't entirely understand them.
Maybe we all have a dark place inside of us, a place where dark thoughts and darker dreams live, but it doesn't have to become who we are.
Chance. It weaves through our lives like a golden thread, sometimes knotting, tangling, and breaking along the way. Loose threads are left hanging, but the in and out, the back and forth continues, the weaving goes on. It doesn't stop.
Once upon a time, there was a man as great as the gods…But even the great can tremble with fear.Even the great can fall
My memory is coming back. It is curious how it comes. Each day, a rush of pieces, loosely connected, unimportant bits, snake through me. They click, click, click into my brain, like links being snapped together. And then they are done. A small chain of memories that fill in one tiny part of my life. They come out of nowhere, and most are not important.
Percentages! Those are for economists, polls, and politicians. Percentages can't define your identity.
I looked at her, unsure how to answer. Even after everything Mikael had done, every day I had to let go again. He was a habit in my thoughts, not any more welcome than a rash, but I'd find myself thinking of him before I even realized what I was doing. Banishing him from my thoughts was like learning to breathe in a new way. It was a conscious effort.
Their voices meld into a cloudy rumble of their own, and I ponder Mira's and Aidan's secrets and imagine the injustice that threads through other lives, injustice that has no face because it is hidden away in a dark, shameful place, hidden for years in hopes of making it untrue.
ChoiceI needed it like I needed air.Bit no one could hear me. No one could listen. No words. No sound.No voice.I couldn't even dream myself away.Choices were made.None of them mine.At first I wondered if it was hell.And then I knew it was.