Middle Eastern Fantasy Quotes

“The gesture earned him an exasperated breath. "Of course it will happen again. I have other men to lie to me, Adrian. Now sit and give me truth.”
― L.J. Stanton, The Dying Sun

“There was movement in the mists. The valley below them was full of creatures of myth, impossible creatures from the stories Nikias had told Merikh as a child. Pale dogs the size of ponies, hairless and covered in spines, snarled at the shambling corpses of mortohas. Red-eyed leopards disappeared into the mists and reappeared on the opposite side of the valley whenever they wished. Within the center, regarded warily by the rest of the creatures, were creatures of unnatural beauty. Rakshasas. Undead blood drinkers that could hide in humanoid form.”
― L.J. Stanton, The Dying Sun

“Shadows replaced fog. They were in the catacombs underneath the High Temple. Ruya pushed the lid from an ossuary in front of them and placed the black tome within. Surprise and fear replaced Ruya’s homesickness. She’d underestimated Merikh.
A splitting headache hit him. The world went black. He could feel Ruya’s panic. And then the warmth of her hand on his wrist grew cold.

He could smell blood.”
― L.J. Stanton, The Dying Sun

“When Merikh crouched down and carefully pulled the rug back, Loralee instinctively retreated a few steps. Green fog began to emanate from Merikh’s fingertips. It thickened as it touched the ground. After a moment, the fog completed a circle around the stain. Strange glyphs that resembled the ones from the raven scroll ran along the outside rim of the circle.

“It would seem a history lesson is in order,” Merikh said...The room went cold. Not the sort of cold that happened when Merikh grew irritable. The sort of cold that cut to Loralee’s bones and made them feel brittle. Her joints ached when she brought her hands to her bare arms. Even when she rubbed her skin, she couldn’t make them warm. It was only after that realization that Loralee came to another one: the room was dark, as if the sun were setting.”
― L.J. Stanton, The Dying Sun

“I have wishes, too,” I whisper. “But they never come true.”
― Rania Hanna, The Jinn Daughter

“At the end of his reign, Merikh wanted the satisfaction of knowing he had personally reshaped Shai'Khal in his image.”
― L.J. Stanton, The Dying Sun

“When all was said and done, Merikh had no intention of being turned into a goat over a technicality.”
― L.J. Stanton, The Dying Sun

“...crisis of faith were prone to dark hours.”
― L.J. Stanton, The Dying Sun

“...there are men who dwell in shadows, and then there are men who are shadows.”
― L.J. Stanton, The Dying Sun

“Ruya had spent enough time in a prison to recognize one, no matter how gilded. The palace practically shimmered, but Ruya had no intention of trading mists for marble and gold.”
― L.J. Stanton, The Dying Sun

“Merikh was suddenly confident of Ruya's ability to tear his soul from his body with a look.”
― L.J. Stanton, The Dying Sun

“Thoughts of wrongful prosection flew far from her mind, replaced by a far greater and stranger worry: marriage.”
― L.J. Stanton, The Dying Sun

“I don't know which gods to entreat to bless your journey home, Shahanshah, but I pray for cool days and warm nights. That jackals stay far from your tents, and that water be fresh and plentiful.”
― L.J. Stanton

“You know that mist isn't natural. It never leaves. What weather is unchanging with the seasons?”
― L.J. Stanton, The Dying Sun

“Loralee let out a slow breath as she watched the Shah leave. The feeling of teetering off balance lessened as the distance between them became greater. Sorcerers of his strength were exceptionally rare. Loralee had never been around anyone anywhere nearly that strong. Powerful men didn’t make her nervous as a rule. Her title protected her well enough. When it didn’t, Loralee knew her way around a dagger or shamshir. But magic was a completely different animal, and she didn’t trust it. Not when it would be all too easy for a man like the Shah to take her soul as a plaything.”
― L.J. Stanton, The Dying Sun

“Merikh’s shamshir cut across the Emani’s chest, barely grazing the man. Loralee could see only a thin cut from his torn kameez. The Emani stumbled back, his eyes wide in abject horror. The glyphs on Merikh’s shamshir glowed green. The blade turned black, as if made of shadow. From the Emani’s wound, necrotic fog began to pour. A moment later, it took the form of a man. Loralee’s breath caught in her throat.”
― L.J. Stanton, The Dying Sun

“Sometimes, to get love, 'Azāzīl needs to become Iblis.”
― Adil Alzarooni, The Red Island: The Gatekeeper