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612 pages, Kindle Edition
First published April 10, 2018
“After all, one couldn’t expect a bolt of lightning to strike someone who’d committed an evil deed.”
“We are all born with the capacity for good and evil, Harmony and Pandemonium. However, the course of a person’s life is not set at birth. No one is born a rapist or a murderer. Or a saint, for that matter. The experiences in their lives—their family, their friends, the events experienced as a child—all feed either this internal Harmony or Pandemonium. Children born by good parents awash in Harmony have a propensity for Harmony, of course. An internal drive for peace and love and protection. But, if they spend time with greedy, vicious friends, surrounded by evil, they will, themselves, become tainted and corrupted. However, the reverse is also true. A child, born with the propensity for Pandemonium, if raised by a loving mother and family, shown the correct path to faith and decency, will grow to be a good person.”
“My son, ‘ strife befalls us all. A weak man lets it define him, while a strong man lets it expand him.’”
“After all, one couldn’t expect a bolt of lightning to strike someone who’d committed an evil deed.”
“My father was a smuggler, and my mother was… well… unhappy that my father was a smuggler. The usual story. She ran. He found her. He killed her. I killed him”
“We’ve discussed rape, murder and wholesale slaughter. Little cab be darker than that,” said Emma with some sarcasm.
“She saw herself in the mirror then, still naked, still bruised, still pale, still sunken, still broken. Still a killer”
As we all know, the world was formed at the crux of Harmony and Pandemonium, two unstoppable forces that ever have, and ever will, wander the Cosmos, drawn to each other like iron and a lodestone. Early images showed Harmony and Pandemonium as having human characteristics, great beings inevitably warring with whatever great powers were at hand. Many now conceptualize Harmony and Pandemonium to be more forces of nature, realities of existence, that seek to impose their aspects upon their surroundings without will. Others still believe that there is a consciousness behind the forces, a powerful desire to shape reality. I suppose that we shall never know the truth. Regardless, I digress.
...Fenrir's heart pounded hollowly in his rib cage while his stomach twisted and roiled, as if he'd drank a gallon of sour milk.
By design, the rest of the army had to both listen to the sounds of the dying men for hours and march through the gore—at least, through whatever wasn’t covered in dust—as a rather heavy-handed reminder of the price of desertion. This practice had not been used in over a hundred years, and was considered to be inhumane and brutal by modern standards.