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“The wolf may be taught to heel, but never to forget the taste of its own freedom.”
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“Perhaps she had grown so accustomed to fire that she craved its burn, even as it scarred her. Was that longing? Or was it madness — masochism dressed in memory?”
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“Those mornings were fragile things — like flowers blooming in the middle of a battlefield. She hadn’t realized then that the soil beneath them was already drowned in blood and bone, too rotten to let life truly take root.”
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“Every single I bear — it is for you. To keep you breathing when all else would see you cold in the ground.”
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“She was chaos. And he would’ve burned whole cities, just to keep her looking at him like that.”
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