Living is a risk," I snapped at him. "Every decision, every interaction, every step, every time you get out of bed in the morning, you take a risk. To survive is to know you're taking that risk and to not get out of bed clutching illusions of safety.

His words sliced through my heart, cutting it into little pathetic pieces.

It's a dirty way to fight, but I'm late for lunch.

Reviewing our fight, I asked Janco, “Why do you rhyme when you fight?

I'm your mother. I see all. Hear all. Know all.

Back so soon?" he asked. "Too bad. I was just about to organize a search for your dead body. What happened when you knocked on the southerner magician's door to sacrifice yourself? Did they kick you out, thinking you too half-witted to waste their time on?

Maximum damage. It was the beginning of the end. Either we would fail or not. At least we could say we tried.