Crown of Midnight

And the world … it was moving on without her.

Her body was a patchwork of scars; he’d seen it with his own eyes. But these new scars might go deeper: the pain of losing Nehemia, and the different, but perhaps just as agonizing, loss of Chaol.

An awful part of him was glad she’d cut out Chaol. He hated himself for it.

“Then you will always have a place here.”

Incredibly hard to care, when you didn’t have anyone left to care about.

To escape death, she’d become death.

And isn’t the journey more important than the end?

He had lost her.

And she would never, in a thousand lifetimes, let him in again.

But death was her curse and her gift

Nehemia was dead.

His soul was bound to hers by some unbreakable chain.