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.

A hand fought best when it made a fist.

The world could bring you poison in a jewelled cup, or surprising gifts. Sometimes you didn't know which of them it was.

She had been a solitary child, and then solitary as a woman, drawn into an orbit of her own that took her away from others, even those who would be her friends.

Eanna love us, Adaon preserve us, Morian guard our souls.

One man sees a riselka: his life forks there. Two men see a riselka: one of them shall die. Three men see a riselka: one is blessed, one forks, one shall die.

It was different, though, knowing something in your thoughts and then hearing it confirmed, made real, planted in the world like a tree