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“Humans were such tricky and complicated things.
As it began to spin life and being out of its dreamstuff, the remaining trees began to hum and sing together. Once upon a time, their songs had sounded different, but in this time, they sang the songs the Greywaren had given to them. It was a wailing, ascending tune, full of both misery and joy at once. And as Cabeswater distilled its magic, these trees began to fall, one by one.
The psychic's daughter's sadness burst through the forest, and Cabeswater accepted that, too, and put it into the life it was building.
Another tree fell, and another, and Cabeswater kept returning again and again to the humans who had made the request. It had to remember what they felt like. It had to remember to make itself small enough.
As the forest diminished, the Greywaren's despair and wonder surged through Cabeswater. The trees sang soothingly back to him, a song of possibility and power and dreams, and then Cabeswater collected his wonder and put it into the life it was building.
And finally, the magician's wistful regret twisted through what remained of the trees. Without this, what was he? Simply human, human, human. Cabewaster pressed leaves against his cheek one last time, and then they took that humanity for the life it was building.
It was nearly human-shaped. It would fit well enough. Nothing was ever perfect.
Make way for the Raven King.
The last tree fell, and the forest was gone, and everything was absolutely silent.
Blue touched Gansey's face. She whispered, "Wake up.”
― The Raven King
As it began to spin life and being out of its dreamstuff, the remaining trees began to hum and sing together. Once upon a time, their songs had sounded different, but in this time, they sang the songs the Greywaren had given to them. It was a wailing, ascending tune, full of both misery and joy at once. And as Cabeswater distilled its magic, these trees began to fall, one by one.
The psychic's daughter's sadness burst through the forest, and Cabeswater accepted that, too, and put it into the life it was building.
Another tree fell, and another, and Cabeswater kept returning again and again to the humans who had made the request. It had to remember what they felt like. It had to remember to make itself small enough.
As the forest diminished, the Greywaren's despair and wonder surged through Cabeswater. The trees sang soothingly back to him, a song of possibility and power and dreams, and then Cabeswater collected his wonder and put it into the life it was building.
And finally, the magician's wistful regret twisted through what remained of the trees. Without this, what was he? Simply human, human, human. Cabewaster pressed leaves against his cheek one last time, and then they took that humanity for the life it was building.
It was nearly human-shaped. It would fit well enough. Nothing was ever perfect.
Make way for the Raven King.
The last tree fell, and the forest was gone, and everything was absolutely silent.
Blue touched Gansey's face. She whispered, "Wake up.”
― The Raven King
“Did you get notes for me?"
"No", Ronan replied,"I thought you were dead in a ditch.”
― The Raven Boys
"No", Ronan replied,"I thought you were dead in a ditch.”
― The Raven Boys
“In the end, it was such a simple, small thing. He had felt flashes of it before in his life, the absolute certainty. But the truth was that he'd kept walking away from it. It was a far more terrifying idea to imagine how much control he really had over how his life turned out. Easier to believe that he was a gallant ship tossed by fate than to captain it himself.
He would steer it now, and if there were rocks near shore, so be it.
"Tell me where Owen Glendower is," he said to the darkness. Crisp and sure, with the same power he had used to command Noah, to command the skeletons in the cave. "Show me where the Raven King is.”
― The Raven King
He would steer it now, and if there were rocks near shore, so be it.
"Tell me where Owen Glendower is," he said to the darkness. Crisp and sure, with the same power he had used to command Noah, to command the skeletons in the cave. "Show me where the Raven King is.”
― The Raven King
“I'm sorry," Gansey said, not looking at her as she leaned on the car beside him. "That was very rude."
Blue thought of a few things to reply, but couldn't say any of them out loud. She felt like one of the night birds had gotten inside her. It tumbled and fumbled every time she breathed.
He's going to die; this is going to hurt--
But she touched his neck, right where his hair was cut evenly above the collar of his shirt. He was very still. His skin was hot, and she could very, very faintly feel his pulse beneath her thumb. It wasn't like when she was with Adam. She didn't have to guess what to do with her hands. They knew. This was what it should have felt like with Adam. Less like playacting and more like a foregone conclusion.
He closed his eyes and leaned, just a little, so that her palm was flat on his neck, fingers sprawled from his ear to his shoulder.
Everything in Blue was charged. Say something. Say something.
Gansey lifted her hand gently from his skin, holding it as formally as a dance. He put it against his mouth.
Blue froze. Absolutely still. Her heart didn't beat. She didn't blink. She couldn't say don't kiss me. She couldn't even form don't.
He just leaned his cheek and the edge of his mouth against her knuckles, and then set her hand back.
"I know," he said. "I wouldn't."
Her skin burned with the memory of his mouth. The thrashing bird of her heart shivered and shivered again. "Thank's for remembering."
He looked back over the valley. "Oh, Jane."
"Oh, Jane, what?"
"He didn't want me to, did you know? He told me not to try to get you to come to the table that night at Nino's. I had to talk him into it. And then I made such an idiot of myself--" He turned back to her. "What are you thinking?"
She just looked at him. That I went out with the wrong boy. That I destroyed Adam tonight for no reason at all. That I'm not sensible at all--"I thought you were an asshole."
Gallantly, he said, "Thank God for past tense." Then: "I can't--we can't do this to him."
It was jagged inside her. "I'm not a thing. To have."
"No. Jesus. Of course you're not. But you know what I mean."
She did. And he was right. They couldn't do this to him. She shouldn't do it to herself, anyway. But how it made a disaster of her chest and her mouth and her head.
"I wish you could be kissed, Jane," he said. "Because I would beg one off you. Under all this." He flailed an arm toward the stars. "And then we'd never say anything about it again.”
― The Dream Thieves
Blue thought of a few things to reply, but couldn't say any of them out loud. She felt like one of the night birds had gotten inside her. It tumbled and fumbled every time she breathed.
He's going to die; this is going to hurt--
But she touched his neck, right where his hair was cut evenly above the collar of his shirt. He was very still. His skin was hot, and she could very, very faintly feel his pulse beneath her thumb. It wasn't like when she was with Adam. She didn't have to guess what to do with her hands. They knew. This was what it should have felt like with Adam. Less like playacting and more like a foregone conclusion.
He closed his eyes and leaned, just a little, so that her palm was flat on his neck, fingers sprawled from his ear to his shoulder.
Everything in Blue was charged. Say something. Say something.
Gansey lifted her hand gently from his skin, holding it as formally as a dance. He put it against his mouth.
Blue froze. Absolutely still. Her heart didn't beat. She didn't blink. She couldn't say don't kiss me. She couldn't even form don't.
He just leaned his cheek and the edge of his mouth against her knuckles, and then set her hand back.
"I know," he said. "I wouldn't."
Her skin burned with the memory of his mouth. The thrashing bird of her heart shivered and shivered again. "Thank's for remembering."
He looked back over the valley. "Oh, Jane."
"Oh, Jane, what?"
"He didn't want me to, did you know? He told me not to try to get you to come to the table that night at Nino's. I had to talk him into it. And then I made such an idiot of myself--" He turned back to her. "What are you thinking?"
She just looked at him. That I went out with the wrong boy. That I destroyed Adam tonight for no reason at all. That I'm not sensible at all--"I thought you were an asshole."
Gallantly, he said, "Thank God for past tense." Then: "I can't--we can't do this to him."
It was jagged inside her. "I'm not a thing. To have."
"No. Jesus. Of course you're not. But you know what I mean."
She did. And he was right. They couldn't do this to him. She shouldn't do it to herself, anyway. But how it made a disaster of her chest and her mouth and her head.
"I wish you could be kissed, Jane," he said. "Because I would beg one off you. Under all this." He flailed an arm toward the stars. "And then we'd never say anything about it again.”
― The Dream Thieves
“Ronan Lynch was becoming a jagged, shaggy horror of a thing. She could feel the same wordless dread that the Lace invoked rising in her.
Hennessy hugged him.
She didn't even know where the impulse came from. She was not a sentimental hugger. She had not been hugged as a child, unless the hug was being emotionally weaponized for later. And Ronan Lynch did not seem like the sort of person who would care about getting a hug. Giving someone care and receiving it were two unrelated actions.
At first it did not seem to do anything.
Ronan kept screaming. The hug had not made him appear more human. He seemed more like Bryde than ever--and not Bryde when he was his most man-shaped. He just seemed like a dream entity that hated everything.
"Ronan Lynch, you asshole," Hennessy said.
Once, he'd hugged her. At the time, she had thought it didn't help, but she'd been wrong.
So she held on now, and kept holding on, though he became even less recognizable as Ronan Lynch for a little bit. Then, after a while, the scream gave way to quiet.
She could feel his body quivering. Like a pencil sketch, it conveyed misery with the smallest of gestures.
And then there was nothing at all, just stillness.
Finally, she realized he was hugging her, too, tightly.
There was a strange sort of magic to being a person holding another person after not being held by someone for a long time. There was another strange sort of magic to understand you'd been using words and silence the wrong way for a long time.”
― Greywaren
Hennessy hugged him.
She didn't even know where the impulse came from. She was not a sentimental hugger. She had not been hugged as a child, unless the hug was being emotionally weaponized for later. And Ronan Lynch did not seem like the sort of person who would care about getting a hug. Giving someone care and receiving it were two unrelated actions.
At first it did not seem to do anything.
Ronan kept screaming. The hug had not made him appear more human. He seemed more like Bryde than ever--and not Bryde when he was his most man-shaped. He just seemed like a dream entity that hated everything.
"Ronan Lynch, you asshole," Hennessy said.
Once, he'd hugged her. At the time, she had thought it didn't help, but she'd been wrong.
So she held on now, and kept holding on, though he became even less recognizable as Ronan Lynch for a little bit. Then, after a while, the scream gave way to quiet.
She could feel his body quivering. Like a pencil sketch, it conveyed misery with the smallest of gestures.
And then there was nothing at all, just stillness.
Finally, she realized he was hugging her, too, tightly.
There was a strange sort of magic to being a person holding another person after not being held by someone for a long time. There was another strange sort of magic to understand you'd been using words and silence the wrong way for a long time.”
― Greywaren
ariel ’s 2025 Year in Books
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