"She still held to the faith of her father, in that she believed there was a heaven waiting beyond this life, and yet she would not let her belief lead her unthinking into oblivion. I won’t surrender, she thought with a vehemence that startled her. I will walk this path to whatever end may await. I will not fade away into nothingness. I’d rather burn.
No, if the God of her father still ruled this world, then surely His reign was not in scripture scrawled threateningly across a wall, nor in the mind of a single, demented leader. Nor was it in the depths of that dark water, but rather in the light that filtered through the trees at dawn, in the flight of the pale doves in the morning, in the graceful, folding wings of a pair of mated swans, in the footsteps of a great stag upon the frosted earth, in the distant stars at night, the flames of the evening sky.
And in those few, small fires that yet flickered within the hearts of men."
~
~
"This is what he remembers as he finally falls down to his knees. When he sinks into a sea of blood, when the tips of his wings are stained dark red for the first and final time, a blessed crimson oblivion rising, coming for him at long last. This is what he remembers when the grit and the sand and the wind whirl around him, when all goes dim, when the last man standing stands no more."
~
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