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The body on the ground is nothing more than a shell, a husk, and I am filled with a sense of peace. Yes, I think. Yes. This is what I want to be. An instrument of mercy, not vengeance.

R.L. LaFevers

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R.L. LaFevers
Sense
Vengeance
Body
Shells
Nothing
Instrument
Think
Mercy
Thinking
Instruments
Ground
Filled
Husk
Peace
Shell

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When he laces his fingers through mine, my heart does its now familiar panicked flight, bumping painfully against my ribs. My shoulder twitches as if to pull my hand back, but my heart overrules it.
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He smiles then, and even though it is well past midnight, its as if the sun has just come out.
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You would throw away all that we have given you for a man’s love?” “Not a man’s love,” I say softly. “But Duval’s. And I would find a way to serve both my god and my heart. Surely He does not give us hearts so we may spend our lives ignoring them.
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You are not my nursemaid. Remember, I am rescuing you.
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He barks out a laugh. My little rebel.
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When one consorts with assassins, one must expect to dance along the edge of a knife once or twice.
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Why be the sheep when you can be the wolf?
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It is all we have left to us. And while it is more than I ever dared dream, it is nowhere near enough.
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... true faith never comes without anguish.
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And so it is with us we serve as handmaidens to Death. When we are guided by His will, killing is a sacrament.
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Whenever you are ready, or if you never are, my heart is yours.
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Hate cannot be fought with hate. Evil cannot be conquered by darkness. Only love has the power to conquer them both.
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In the distance a wolf howls. Let it come, I think. Beast will most likely simply howl back, and the creature will either turn tail and run or fall into line behind him, like the rest of us have.
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I am left with the conviction that an avalanche would be easier to dissuade than that man.
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You come to us well tempered, my child, and it is not in my nature to be sorry for it. It is a well tempered blade that is the strongest.
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We are all of us, gods and mortals, made up of many pieces, some of them broken, some of them scarred, but none of them the total sum of who we are.
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