A song she heard
Of cold that gathers
Like winter's tongue
Among the shadows
It rose like blackness
In the sky
That on volcano's
Vomit rise
A Stone of ruin
From burn to chill
Like black moonrise
Her voice fell still...

“Without realizing what she was doing and more on an impulse than anything else,…”

“Othalas: Chosen don't choose themselves!”

“I can hear your whisper and distant mutter. I can smell your damp on the breeze…”

“To all those women -- strong enough to be heroes; fair enough to be ladies. Thi…”