Enough talk,” Peter said, and his eyes flashed. “It’s time to turn you three into killers.
Did he dare trust this insane boy?
What will happen, will happen.
Demon or not, it didn’t matter, suffering was everywhere he looked.
Burn? Smite? Punish? Why is your god so intolerant? So jealous? Why must there be only one god? Why is there not room for many?
Had not enough gone wrong?
Peter,” she whispered and reached out, touching his cheek. “My little Peterbird? You flew back to me.
Peter finds the lost, the left-behind, the abused.
How much blood will it take to make them stop? How many more children must die?
Mama,” Peter cried. She didn’t look up. The door shut.
I bring fresh blood,” Peter said and grinned.
Let’s play,” Peter said.
Help her,” Peter pleaded. “Do something. You have ways. Your potions. Your medicines. Do something.
Peter wore a grin from ear to ear. “You did great!
Steady,” Peter said, not losing a step. “Have to keep steady or all is lost.
Peter kept walking.
How will I make a people who do not understand the power of belief believe?
Does mankind truly hate itself? How can one surmount such irreverence?
You are free. The world is yours. got take it.
Stop your weeping. Grief is for the dead.