So cute how you called out for Damen after conjuring that chaste little love scene in your head.

And while I'm sure you feel that your particular mistake is extraordinarily big, insurmountable even, contrary to what you might think, these types of things can always be undone, and oftentimes aren't nearily as lethal as we think—or, should I say, as we allow them to be.

Four hundred years of losing out on the girl of my dreams isn't sitting very well with me these days.

We are not defined by our things. It´s not the clothes that we wear, the cars that we drive, the art we acquire- It´s not where we live- but how we live that defines us. It´s our actions that are remembered long after we are gone.

For the moment, I’m just Daire—a girl straddling two bloodlines. One I was given—one I must earn.

The only reason I lost, the only reason I failed to get what I want, is because the monster is me, there's no difference between us. It makes all the moves, calls all the shots, while I'm just along for the ride, with no idea how to pull the brakes or get off.

What if it can't be worked out? What if I'm—what if I'm broken for good?