He lives. I breathe. I want. Him. Always. Fire to my ice. Ice to my fever. -Mac

I have found there to be little distance between the unlatching of a chain and the spreading of a woman’s legs. As if they can never unbar only a single entrance. It’s a disease called hope. Women suffer from it greatly.

Think you two puny Druids can hold this keep for a single night?

My world we humans we’re just pawns on an immortal chessboard.

Pretty girl and all. Asking. Gotta love that. Stuff of heroes. Don't get the role too often.

You might be able to thrash your way out of a spiderweb, but thrashing in quicksand doesn’t work. The harder you fight, the more ground you lose. Struggling merely expedites your inevitable defeat.

Propping the mirror against the wall near the door, he waved a hand at it and clipped, "Drustan: Cian MacKeltar. Cian: Drustan MacKeltar." "Dageus," Drustan's voice was soft as velvet, never a good sign, "why are you introducing me to a mirror?