Kaltain Rompier Quotes

“Kaltain Rompier had just turned the tide of this war.
Dorian had never been more ashamed of himself.
He should have been better. Should have seen better. They all should have.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Empire of Storms

“Kaltain flowed into the room, spreading her arms wide, and became shadowfire, became freedom and triumph, became a promise hissed in a dungeon beneath a glass castle:

Punish them all.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Queen of Shadows

“If they let you out,” Kaltain said, both of them staring into the blackness of their prisons, “make sure that they're punished someday. Every last one of them.”
Celaena listened to her own breathing, felt Chaol's blood under her nails, and the blood of all those men she'd hacked down, and the coldness of Nehemia's room, where all that gore had soaked the bed.
“They will be,” Celaena swore to the darkness.
She had nothing left to give, except that.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Crown of Midnight

“She'd forgotten the name she'd been given, but it made no difference.
She had only one name now:
Death, devourer of worlds.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Queen of Shadows

“She had once believed that she'd been born to be a queen.
She had since learned that she'd been born to be a wolf.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Queen of Shadows

“Kaltain Rompier unleashed her shadowfire upon them all.
This was not the ghost of shadowfire they had made her kill with—the reason why they had first approached her, lied to her when they invited her to that glass castle—but the real thing. The fire she had harbored since magic had returned—golden flame turned to black
The room became cinders.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Queen of Shadows

“Kaltain unleashed the last of her shadowfire, tipping her face to the ceiling, toward a sky she'd never see again.

She took every wall and every column. As she brought it all crashing and crumbling around them, Kaltain smiled, and at last burned herself into ash on a phantom wind.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Queen of Shadows

“If she herself could change so much in two years, perhaps so could Lysandra.

And for a moment, she wondered how another young woman's life would have been different if she had stopped to talk to her—really talk to Kaltain Rompier, instead of dismissing her as a vapid courtier. What would have happened if Nehemia had tried to see past Kaltain's mask, too.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Queen of Shadows

“She had once believed that she'd been born to be queen.
She had since learned that she'd been born to be a wolf.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Queen of Shadows

“Kaltain,” her uncle rumbled, a demand and a threat and a promise.
The silent young woman—the one who never spoke, who never looked at anything, who had such marks on her. Elide had seen her only a few times. Had seen how little she responded. Or fought back.
And then Elide was walking up the stairs.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Queen of Shadows

“The Keep was in chaos. Witches and humans were running around, shouting.
Magic.
Magic was free.
Not possible.
But she could feel it, even with the collar around her neck and that scar on her arm.
The loosing of some great beast inside her.
A beast who purred at the shadowfire.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Queen of Shadows

“In that cocoon of darkness, she bided her time, letting him think her gone, letting them do what they wanted to the mortal shell around her. It was in that cocoon where the shadowfire began to flicker, fueling her, feeding her. Long ago, when she was small and clean, flames of gold had crackled at her fingers, secret and hidden. Then they vanished, as all good things had vanished.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Queen of Shadows

“The prince inside her did not notice when she began to nibble at him
Bit by bit, she stole morsels of the otherworldly creature that had taken her body for its skin, who did such despicable things with it.
The creature noticed the day she took a bigger bite—big enough that it screamed in agony.
Before it could tell anyone, she leaped upon it, tearing and ripping with her shadowfire until only ashes of malice remained, until it was no more than a whisper of thought. Fire—it did not like fire of any kind.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Queen of Shadows

“From me,” Kaltain said, in a voice that was dead and hollow and yet vicious. “It has always been there—asleep. And now it has been awoken. Shaped anew.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Queen of Shadows

“Its like shards of a broken mirror, each gleaming with its own individual image”
― Sarah J. Maas, Crown of Midnight

“The scar on her arm ached.
It always ached—more than the collar, more than the cold, more than the duke’s hands on her, more than anything that had been done to her.
Only the shadowfire was a comfort.
She had once believed that she’d been born to be queen. She had since learned that she’d been born to be a wolf.
The duke had even put a collar on her like a dog, and had shoved a demon prince inside her. She’d let it win for a time, curling up so tightly inside herself that the prince forgot she was there. And she waited. In that cocoon of darkness, she bided her time, letting him think her gone, letting them do what they wanted to the mortal shell around her. It was in that cocoon where the shadowfire began to flicker, fueling her, feeding her.
Long ago, when she was small and clean, flames of gold had crackled at her fingers, secret and hidden. Then they had vanished, as all good things had vanished. And now they had returned—reborn within that dark shell as phantom fire.
The prince inside her did not notice when she began to nibble at him. Bit by bit, she stole morsels of the otherworldly creature that had taken her body for its skin, who did such despicable things with it. The creature noticed the day she took a bigger bite—big enough that it screamed in agony. Before it could tell anyone, she leaped upon it, tearing and ripping with her shadowfire until only ashes of malice remained, until it was no more than a whisper of thought. Fire—it did not like fire of any kind.
For weeks now, she had been here. Waiting again. Learning about the flame in her veins—how it bled into the thing in her arm and reemerged as shadowfire. The thing spoke to her sometimes, in languages she had never heard, that had maybe never existed.
The collar remained around her neck, and she let them order her around, let them touch her, hurt her. Soon enough—soon enough she would find true purpose, and then she would howl her wrath at the moon.
She’d forgotten the name she’d been given, but it made no difference.
She had only one name now:
Death, devourer of worlds.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Queen of Shadows

“The scar on her arm ached.

It always ached—more than the collar, more than the cold, more than the duke’s hands on her, more than anything that had been done to her.

Only the shadowfire was a comfort.

She had once believed that she’d been born to be queen.

She had since learned that she’d been born to be a wolf.

The duke had even put a collar on her like a dog, and had shoved a demon prince inside her. She’d let it win for a time, curling up so tightly inside herself that the prince forgot she was there. And she waited. In that cocoon of darkness, she bided her time, letting him think her gone, letting them do what they wanted to the mortal shell around her. It was in that cocoon where the shadowfire began to flicker, fueling her, feeding her.

Long ago, when she was small and clean, flames of gold had crackled at her fingers, secret and hidden. Then they had vanished, as all good things had vanished. And now they had returned—reborn within that dark shell as phantom fire.

The prince inside her did not notice when she began to nibble at him. Bit by bit, she stole morsels of the otherworldly creature that had taken her body for its skin, who did such despicable things with it. The creature noticed the day she took a bigger bite—big enough that it screamed in agony. Before it could tell anyone, she leaped upon it, tearing and ripping with her shadowfire until only ashes of malice remained, until it was no more than a whisper of thought. Fire—it did not like fire of any kind.

For weeks now, she had been here. Waiting again. Learning about the flame in her veins—how it bled into the thing in her arm and reemerged as shadowfire. The thing spoke to her sometimes, in languages she had never heard, that had maybe never existed.

The collar remained around her neck, and she let them order her around, let them touch her, hurt her. Soon enough—soon enough she would find true purpose, and then she would howl her wrath at the moon.

She’d forgotten the name she’d been given, but it made no difference.

She had only one name now:
Death, devourer of worlds.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Queen of Shadows

“The scar on her arm ached.

It always ached—more than the collar, more than the cold, more than the duke’s hands on her, more than anything that had been done to her. Only the shadowfire was a comfort.

She had once believed that she’d been born to be queen.

She had since learned that she’d been born to be a wolf.

The duke had even put a collar on her like a dog, and had shoved a demon prince inside her.

She’d let it win for a time, curling up so tightly inside herself that the prince forgot she was there.

And she waited.

In that cocoon of darkness, she bided her time, letting him think her gone, letting them do what they wanted to the mortal shell around her. It was in that cocoon where the shadowfire began to flicker, fueling her, feeding her. Long ago, when she was small and clean, flames of gold had crackled at her fingers, secret and hidden. Then they had vanished, as all good things had vanished.

And now they had returned—reborn within that dark shell as phantom fire.

The prince inside her did not notice when she began to nibble at him.

Bit by bit, she stole morsels of the otherworldly creature that had taken her body for its skin, who did such despicable things with it.

The creature noticed the day she took a bigger bite—big enough that it screamed in agony.

Before it could tell anyone, she leaped upon it, tearing and ripping with her shadowfire until only ashes of malice remained, until it was no more than a whisper of thought. Fire—it did not like fire of any kind.

For weeks now, she had been here. Waiting again. Learning about the flame in her veins—how it bled into the thing in her arm and reemerged as shadowfire. The thing spoke to her sometimes, in languages she had never heard, that had maybe never existed.

The collar remained around her neck, and she let them order her around, let them touch her, hurt her. Soon enough—soon enough she would find true purpose, and then she would howl her wrath at the moon.

She’d forgotten the name she’d been given, but it made no difference.

She had only one name now: Death, devourer of worlds.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Queen of Shadows

“Kolundaki yara izi sızlıyordu.

Hep sızlardı. Tasmasından da, soğuktan da, dükün ona dokunan ellerinden de, kendisine yapılan her şeyden de daha fazla. Tek tesellisi gölge ateşiydi.

Bir zamanlar kraliçe olmak için doğduğuna inanmıştı.

Oysa sonradan bir kurt olmak için doğduğunu öğrenmişti.

Dük bile ona bir köpekmiş gibi tasma takmış, içine iblis bir prens yerleştirmişti.

Bir süreliğine kazanmasına izin vermişti. Kendi benliğinin içinde öylesine sıkı bir şekilde büzülüp saklanmıştı ki prens onun hâlâ orada olduğunu unutmuştu.

Ve beklemişti.

O karanlık kozanın içinde zamanını kollamış, prensin kendisini yok olmuş sanmasına izin vermişti. Ölümlü bedenine istediklerini yapmalarına göz yummuştu. İşte o kozanın içinde gölge ateşi titreşmeye başlamış, ona güç vermiş, onu beslemişti. Çok uzun zaman önce, henüz küçük ve masumken, parmaklarının ucunda altın rengi alevler çıtırdamıştı. Gizli ve saklı alevler... Sonra, bütün güzel şeyler gibi onlar da kaybolmuştu.

Şimdiyse geri dönmüşlerdi. O karanlık kabuğun içinde hayalet ateş olarak yeniden doğmuşlardı.

İçindeki prens, onu yavaş yavaş kemirmeye başladığını fark etmemişti.

Parça parça, bedenini kendisine kılıf edinmiş, onunla böylesine iğrenç şeyler yapan o başka dünyaya ait yaratıktan küçük lokmalar çalmıştı.

Yaratık, daha büyük bir ısırık aldığı gün farkına varmıştı. Öyle büyük bir ısırıktı ki acı içinde çığlık atmıştı.

Kimseye haber veremeden üzerine atılmış, gölge ateşiyle onu parçalamış, lime lime etmişti. Ta ki geriye yalnızca kötülüğün külleri kalana, varlığı bir düşünce fısıltısından ibaret olana dek. Ateş... Yaratık hiçbir tür ateşten hoşlanmıyordu.

Haftalardır buradaydı. Yine bekliyordu. Damarlarında dolaşan alevi, bu alevin kolundaki şeye nasıl sızdığını ve oradan yeniden gölge ateşi olarak nasıl ortaya çıktığını öğreniyordu. Kolundaki şey bazen onunla konuşuyordu. Daha önce hiç duymadığı, belki de hiçbir zaman var olmamış dillerde.

Tasması hâlâ boynundaydı. Onların kendisine emir vermelerine, dokunmalarına, canını yakmalarına izin veriyordu. Çok yakında... Çok yakında gerçek amacını bulacaktı. Ve o zaman öfkesini aya karşı uluyarak haykıracaktı.

Kendisine verilen ismi unutmuştu ama bunun hiçbir önemi yoktu.

Artık yalnızca tek bir adı vardı: Ölüm, dünyaları yiyip bitiren.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Queen of Shadows