My strongest magic was forged from intuition.
But I felt the weight of those inked dreams of people now dead and buried. I felt them as if I had embraced a millstone.
Try telling that to Luc.
I am but a verse inspired by your chorus, and I will follow you until the end, when the isle takes my bones and my name is nothing more than a remembrance on a headstone, next to yours.
You dear, foolish, reckless girl.
In the meantime, I hope you will find your place, wherever you are. Even in the silence, I hope you will find the words you need to share.
One does not realize how powerful a dream is, in the sleeping world as well as the waking one, until it has been stolen from them.
He saw nothing, his gaze sweeping the moonlit yard. And then a ripple of shadow caught his eye, but by the time he shifted his focus, it was gone, melting into the darkness. Jack wondered if he was hallucinating, and he trembled, contemplating pursuit. Could steel cut the heart of the wind? Could it divide the ocean’s tide? Could it make spirits cower and bend to mortals?
It takes courage to let down your armor, to welcome people to see you as you are. Sometimes I feel the same as you: I can’t risk having people behold me as I truly am. But there’s also a small voice in the back of my mind, a voice that tells me, “You will miss so much by being so guarded.
I think we all wear armor. I think those who don’t are fools, risking the pain of being wounded by the sharp edges of the world, over and over again. But if I’ve learned anything from those fools, it is that to be vulnerable is a strength most of us fear. It takes courage to let down your armor, to welcome people to see you as you are.
You should stop eavesdropping, by the way. One day you’ll hear something you’ll wish you hadn’t.
The days may be dark,” Sidra said. “But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t feel joy.
May you be strong and courageous,” he said. “May your enemies kneel before you. May you find the answers you seek. May you be victorious and spirits-blessed, and may peace follow as your shadow.
I wanted, more than anything, to belong somewhere.
I once thought home was simply a place. Four walls to hold you at night while you slept. But I was wrong. It’s people. It’s being with the ones that you love, and maybe even the ones that you hate.
There is no failure in love. And I have loved without measure.
I tried to turn myself into stone. To not feel anything. But now I realize it is better to live, to feel and have a clean break than be half-dead and cold, cracked from resentment.
I tell myself I should remain guarded against you, even as we are fastened together. And yet another side of me believes that you and I could make something of this arrangement. That you and I are complements, that we are made to clash and sharpen each other like iron. That you and I will stay bound together by that which is nameless and runs deeper than vows, until the very end, when the isle takes my bones into the ground and my name is nothing but memory carved into a headstone.
But he would come if she needed him. All she had to do was stand in her garden and speak his name into the wind, and he would come when the whisper on the breeze found him. When he recognized her voice within it, whether the wind blew from the north, the south, the east, or the west. Sometimes it took hours for him to arrive, but he always faithfully answered.
I will comfort you in sadness; I will lift your head and be your strength when you are weak. I will sing with you when you are joyful. I will abide beside you and honor you for a year and a day, and thereafter should the spirits bless us.