Transformation

So what is this feadnach? Is it another curse that makes me beholden to slaves and shrews?' 'No, my lord. It is your heart. Difficult as it may be to comprehend, there is a possibility you may have one.

From the instant of our first meeting I judged him so, though it could be said that I was prejudiced. When one is standing naked on a slave-auction block in a wind cold enough to freeze a demon's backside, one is unlikely to have a fair impression of anyone.

I am indeed afraid, Your Highness. Every moment of my existence carries such a burden of terror you could not imagine it. I fear I have no soul. I fear there are no gods. I fear there is no meaning to the pain I have known. I fear I have lost the capacity to love another human being or ever to see goodness in one. Among such fears as these, my lord, there is little room for you.

Her soul was a fifth season, of richer hue than autumn, bursting with more life than spring, hidden away, ready to transform the world with such glory as it had never seen.

It was impossible to fight any battle without purpose. It was your anchor. Your focus. The place you could fasten everything you had to remember.

Our regret would not change what had happened, only make our grief for the big laughing youth more bitter.

We all do as we're told but some days it doesn't seem to matter.