The Fifth Season

lost in the hateful world with no one to rely on except a man whose love comes wrapped in pain.

what broke once will break again, more easily

“He said, if you wouldn’t come, to tell you that you owe him. For Corundum.”

You freeze.

“Alabaster,” you whisper.

“Yes,” says Hoa, brightening. “That’s his name.” And then he frowns more, thoughtfully this time. “He’s dying.”

You’ve only seen that kind of attitude, and this kind of comm-wide acceptance of it, once before.

“So you’re a stone eater,” you say.

He nods, solemn.

pain is what shapes us

“My—oh, that one. Moving the way we do is hard for them, so they’ve got their own ways of getting about. Including ways I would never have guessed.”

The world is not fair, and sometimes it makes no sense.

“Children are the undoing of us,”

“Be still, and be brave. I’m going to break your hand now.”