most hated by the dark, for their name is light.

What mortal knew the way their fate line would run?

She was owner and captive, both, of a bitterly divided heart.

Fantasy is, at its best, the purest access to storytelling that we have. It universalizes a tale, it evokes wonder and timeless narrative power, it touches upon inner journeys, it illuminates our collective and individual pasts, throws a focus beam on the present day, and presages the dangers and promises of the future.

Ice is for death and endings.

I will not say I am sorry, but I can tell you that I grieve.

What man would dare believe that all he planned might come to pass?