He went in, lean and deadly, and ended the creature with a lightning-fast spike of his blade. It shrieked, likely altering the rest. The death call carried like a mournful song.

Sometimes when you meet someone, there’s a click. I don’t believe in love at first sight but I believe in that click. Recognition.

There’s a hollow where he used to be, and it echoes with self-imposed loss.

I never knew I had the power to hurt him, only that he possessed the power to hurt me.

Nobility and self-sacrifice sound wonderful in theory, but now he’s seen how it feels. A dead hero is still dead at the end of the day, and you’re still alone.

Sometimes broken things heal crooked. The pieces didn’t fit anymore.

A divided heart offers a strange sensation.