Jay Kristoff

Humans are such fools.

Well-meaning fools, sometimes.

But fools, always.

If you can’t hurt the ones who hurt you, sometimes hurting anyone will do.

Because if the Almighty is willing to put an end to all this wickedness, but somehow unable to do so, then he’s not as almighty as the priests would have you believe. If he’s both willing and able to put paid to it all, how can this evil exist in the first place? And if he’s neither willing nor able to lay it to rest, then he’s no god at all.

The only possibility remaining is that he can stop it. He simply chooses not to.

The children snatched from parents’ arms. The endless plains of unmarked graves. The deathless Dead who hunt us in the light of a blackened sun.

He finally turned, feeling fire swell inside him at the sight of it. The anger was an old friend, welcome and warm. Making him forget the ache in his veins, the tug of his scars, the years on his bones. Looking at the monster before him, he felt positively young again. Borne towards forever on the wings of a pure and perfect hate.

There’s a beast in all men’s blood, Gabriel. You can starve him. Cage him. Curse him. But in the end, you pay the beast his due, or he takes his due from you.”

Even the greatest of fools can’t deny the existence of evil. We

The children snatched from parents’ arms. The endless plains of unmarked graves.

History is of interest to me, not mythology. Save

What was her name?’

‘Auriél.’

‘Beautiful.’

The historian tilted his head. ‘We prefer the term foulblood.’