“Forgive,’ he says, speaking softly to the Little Lord at his elbow. The tiny daemon giggles, then farts liquidly into the crook of his armour. That counts as forgiveness, probably.”
― The Lords of Silence
― The Lords of Silence
“Golkh limps. One of his legs is wasted away within its armour-shell, yet still supports his considerable bulk. The bones are shot to powder, the muscles are a stringy mess, and yet he still walks. Such mysteries.”
― The Lords of Silence
― The Lords of Silence
“This is a vindication of their esoteric creed, of the belief that through entropy comes apotheosis, of the wholehearted embrace of mortality in all its truest and most honest aspects.”
― The Lords of Silence
― The Lords of Silence
“He hears the boom and roll of drums, the braying of indentured herds, the background drone of a quadrillion flies, all directed towards one glorious end. Evangelism. This place is the mother church, the incubator for every bio-creed and flesh catechism, the pregnant source, the fertile seed. It is all for dissemination elsewhere. The Legion will only rest when all planets are Plague Planets, and the bells toll out across a galaxy made into this image of spectacular decay.”
― The Lords of Silence
― The Lords of Silence
Noel’s 2025 Year in Books
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