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Besides, she was the Wraith - the only law that applied to her was gravity, and some days she defied that, too.

[...] the Thunderhead could not be tricked. It only pretended to be tricked - like an adult playing hide-and-seek with a toddler.

I serve humankind.
I am the child who has become the parent. The cre-
ation that aspires toward creator.
[...]
I am, by definition, pure justice, pure loyalty. This world is a flower I hold in my palm. I would end my own existence rather than crush it.

My greatest wish for humanity is not for peace or comfort or joy. It is that we all still die a little inside every time we witness the death of another. For only the pain of empathy will keep us human. There's no version of God that can help us if we ever lose that.

Would the Thunderhead grieve our passing, I wonder? And if so, would it grieve as the child who has lost a parent, or as the parent who could not save a petulant child from its own poor choices?

We are wise but not perfect, insightful but not
all-seeing. We know that by establishing the Scythedom, we will be doing something very necessary, but we, the first scythes, still have our misgivings. [...] And if this experiment of ours fails, we have also embedded a way to escape it.

May the Thunderhead help us all, if we ever need that
escape.

"We are angels of death, " said Scythe Goddard. "It is only fitting that we swoop in from the heavens."

I know how hard it is to imagine that what is now humanity's highest calling was once considered a crime. How small-minded and hypocritical mortal man was, for even as they despised the enders of life, they loved nature - which in those days, took every human life ever conceived.

Immortality has turned us all into cartoons.

I often wonder if the bright benefit of belief outweighed the darkness its abuse could bring.

"Therein lies the paradox of the profession," Faraday said. "Those who wish to have the job should not have it... and those who would most refuse to kill are the only ones who should. "

"You see through the facades of the world, Citra Terranova. You'd make a good scythe. "
Citra recoiled. "I'd never want to be one. "
"That," he said, "is the first requirement."

My name is Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, and I will not be afraid.
I will not be afraid.
I will not be afraid.

All come to honor the Thirteen.

Not a whisper - not one whisper from that voice who had guided her. Perhaps she did not need Anneith, Lady of Wise Things. Perhaps the goddess had know she herself was not needed.
Not anymore

A beacon glowing bright in the shadows of the mountains, in the shadows of the forces that awaited them, Aelin lit the way north.

To Lord Chaol! To the queen!
How far they both were from Rifthold. From the assassin and the captain.

[...] fierce pride lighting their faces.
"Queen of Witches," Crochan and Blackbeak declared as one voice.
As one people.

But she knew they were watching, somehow. Those wretched gods. Even here, they were watching. Waiting.
A sacrifice. That's all she was to them.

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Helpless. She had been helpless. As so many in this city, in Terrasen, in this continent, were helpless. [...] She wouldn't be that way again. For whatever time she had left.

"And even now, I feel like someone has ripped me from myself. Like I'm at the bottom of the sea, and who I am, who I was, is far up at the surface, and I will never get back again. "

"The threads of fate weave together in strange ways," he said, then smiled at her.

"Whether my grandmother decrees it so or not, you are my people, and always will be. But I will fly against you, if need be, to ensure that there is a future for those who cannot fight for it themselves."

"To whatever end," he whispered.
Silver lined her eyes. "To whatever end."

Fear no longer bloomed in Elide's eyes. Not a trace remained in her scent. "Good hunting, Lady."

"Adarlan was my pride."
"It's no longer worthy of it," Dorian snapped. "It hasn't been for a long, long time. Perhaps it deserves to fall into ruin."

And even when the cost was little more than a shadow, she could have sworn she still saw the Torre standing above it, glinting white in the sun, as if it were an arm upraised in farewell.

Nesryn clasped his face in her hand as she pulled back. "To war" she breathed, memorizing every line of his face. "And then we'll see what comes after."

Chaol took a shuddering breath. "What did Aelin promise you?" She smiled to herself. "A better world."

"I'm coming home" , he whispered to his brother, his king. Dorian only bowed his head and vanished into the darkness.