Tempus wanders eternally, bringing death to whomever loves him and being spurned by whomsoever he shall love.

If you want to write something completely unique, you will probably fail or at best write something without redeeming value. The mind works in certain patterns: the mind organizes facts in story form; it is your commonality with that body of human thought that makes a good book, not its estrangement from the common values that humans share.

The Fates are here because of supernal anger, celestial imbalance, and arrogance of men and gods that must be curbed.

‎For Tempus...was a dozen storm gods' avatar; no army he sanctified could know defeat; no war he fought could not be won. Combat was life to him; he fought like the gods themselves.

Humiliation sets armies marching, empires falling, breaks hearts and minds and souls.

Something is going on everywhere, most of which no one understands.

To the death with honor, shoulder to shoulder, and no one gets closer to a Stepson than his partner.