Ruthless Gods

This was going to kill her. This, right here, this beautiful boy and his monstrous power and his lies and the knowledge that nothing mattered, they would always betray each other in the end.

What happens when a monster tries to become a god?

Can you love someone and ask them to shatter themselves for you?

Two thrones, two kings, two boys to plunge the world into darkness for the sake of saving it

The world they wish is broken bones and blood—always blood.

You’ll play,” Nadya said <..> “You would have stayed in your hellish mines if you were not going to play. Did you expect to return and find everything exactly like it was before you burned it to the ground? There are only ever ashes after a fire, Malachiasz, and I’ll have you at my feet yet.” His eyes narrowed, the faint smile never quite dropping from his lips even as the air around him turned dangerous. His tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “We’ll see, pet.

Thank you," he mumbled. "For what?" "Coming back. No ones ever done that.

Maybe you were never meant to save the world, daughter of death, maybe you are doing exactly what you were supposed to. You danced on the edge of darkness and light and you fell. You were always going to fall. The darkness was always going to have you. There has never been any escape from it. It was exactly what you were born for.

He was everything; he was nothing. She was torn apart in a thousand directions but there was only one and it was forward. There was nothing else but this.

I don't regret what I did," he said. "But I do regret that it took so many lies. You weren't supposed to be so brilliant. I wasn't supposed to care." "You care far too much about everything. It is, unfortunately, part of your charm.

They were cursed, thrown together by chance in Kalyazin, drawn together by circumstance but fated for opposite paths.

Darkness was something he was intimately used to; darkness was nothing to him. He has lived and toiled and learned in darkness. This was both more than that and yet something else entirely.

Things won't seem as bleak in the morning. Morning is wiser than evening.

Instead he sought out the cleric, holed up in the library as ever, because, as she put it, where else was she supposed to be?

What do you want?” he asked. “End of the war, riches and fortune without having to work for it, the admiration of as many pretty people as possible?

I wanted to show you peace.

A knife twisted in the gut of the divine as he waits and he watches and he knows that they will fall, they always fall, nothing is eternal except for the darkness.

You care, little Kalyazi, and that is your weakness. It could be your strength, in another time, another life. But here? In this world of monsters and war? You care too much.

He could stop this. Open the door and beg forgiveness for the thousands of lies. Turn back. She would forgive him. And if she didn't, her dagger in his heart might be even sweeter.

Bodies, so fragile, so mortal, but so resilient under pressure. They did not want to break.

Are you trying to bribe your way to forgiveness?" "I," Malachiasz said, voice prim, "am trying to bribe my way out of getting my throat slit or nose broken. Forgiveness is hardly a factor and does require remorse.

I thought we needed him for his glowing personality,” Rashid said. “And because we missed him.” “Flattery will get you everywhere, Rashid,” Malachiasz replied.

Bed. Things won’t seem as bleak in the morning. Morning is wiser