Light Bringer Quotes

"Without order, chaos rushes in. Kill me. Find out.” He grins at the Volk and the Ascomanni. “They will eat each other unless you claim the throne, Tyr Morga. Unless you prove me right—you came to get your axe back. Go on, Gold. They were designed to be used. An ouroboros. Unless you feed them enemies, they are a serpent eating their own tail."

"I…was born Vagnar Hefga of the Valkyrie Spires. As I claim. To the gens Grimmus stables. I was a slaveknight and rewarded. I enjoyed the life of a gladiator and all its attendant spoils. It came with a price and expiration date. I died. Then I began my second service. I served in cohors nihil under the greatest mind of his generation, Atlas au Raa. A man who knows duty, as do none of you. I was banished along with him to exterminate the Ascomanni vermin. We tried for years. After Luna fell, Atlas raised me amongst the Ascomanni to unite them to use against the Dominion and the Rising. To remind the traitors that beyond the Society lies only the abyss, only chaos."

"Without darkness, there could not be light. Forgive me, brother, for seeking a little more for myself before the end."

"Unworthy."

"I only knew Lorn from afar, but I think he would be flattered if people said you were a reflection of him."

"Students are always a reflection of the teacher, Darrow. Fá was for Atlas. You are for Lorn. Alexandar was for you."

"It’s the jawline. Isn’t it selfless, really. I take the pressure off everyone else. They don’t have to worry about being the most handsome in the room. They can just be. Ah. Heavy is the chin that sets the bar."

"Bloody brilliant. Volga, man. I mean, awkward as a duck learning to walk at first. She came out in so much gold and jewels and stuff. But then she picked up Fá’s warsaw. Right, and I’m thinking—oh shit, she’s gonna cut her own arm off. But she chopped up Fá’s throne for like five minutes. Then I was thinking—shit, Obsidians love thrones. This is bad. But then, she said the Golds dream of being atop the hierarchy. Ragnar dreamed of breaking it. She gave this speech about how they were all stained. All dirty. So is all their loot, their slaves. Then she tore off the gold, the jewels. The jarls hated that. They love their gold and jewels. But then, man, then she cut off her valor tail. And the jarls were all like, ‘what,’ but the braves went ape. Next thing you know, the braves are ditching all their shiny shit and I’m staring at a sea of pale, bald heads. And the jarls were like, ‘shit, let’s not get beaten to death.’ So off their hair went too."

"Julian.” I sit a little straighter. He never mentions Julian. “He’d say I judged my own worth too much by the people I kept around me. I was poor in those days. I’m quite rich now, I think.” He means it even if he knows it sounds silly. He looks me right in the eyes. “Really, Darrow. I don’t know many people as long as I’ve known you. I just want to say that I really appreciate you. As a person. We’ve had our spots. We really have. We brought out a lot of the bad in each other, but a lot more good. I think it’s like that because we speak a common language, you know? We’ve always understood each other deep down.” I nod. He looks out the window. “I’m not really blessed at keeping friends. But you are. I truly respect that. I know how special your friends are to you, how protective you are of them. And it means…quite a bit to me that you’ve invited me into your pack and made me feel welcome. No…it means everything, really. Without this, without your friends, I’m very much alone. You’ve put a lot of faith in me. Faith that I don’t think I’ve always deserved. I just want to say…thank you, Darrow."

"Brothers,” he murmurs. “It does feel like it fits. We’ll try it on."

"The roaches are all in one bucket, and the lads are in the mood to stomp!"

"That motherfucker’s gonna burn."

"I fear I will run if death is certain. That I will break before the common Gray falls back in retreat. That my body is greater than my will. And my station greater than I deserve."

"Atlas was right. Nothing makes people fall apart like fear, or come together like hope."

"I fear that even in victory, we have lost the future. I fear our people already sailing into darkness will never be found nor liberated. I fear they will endure forever in bondage."

"Though this cause is worthy, I fear that I will perish out here in the dark! That I will never feel the kiss of Sol upon my face again!"

"You know how I knew it was him, in the end? Back on Mercury. When he met us at the theater. He couldn’t resist mocking us. ‘Had I a moonBreaker in my palm, I’d shake even the devil’s hand with a grin.’ He is only a mortal man, Lysander. He errs, too."

"I’m not known as a man to compromise. I am working on that."

"The purpose of war must be to find the road back to peace. I am not a politician. Nor a philosopher. I do not know the peace we three might find when the dust settles, but I know this: all Atalantia and Atlas—and those like them—will accept is either subjugation or annihilation."

"We do not see the same man, Lysander. You have forgotten that Darrow let you live when you were a boy. That his son is half Gold. That his wife is Gold, born of the family who killed his first wife."

"If you were born a Red on Mars what would you have done?” Lysander flinches at the question in revulsion, unable to imagine such a thing. “When I was a boy, my father asked me that question. I said ‘rise up’ and he smiled. Darrow is not to blame for this war. Gold is. The hierarchy gave humanity the stars, but the decadence and cruelty of our rulers gave us this rebellion. You told me once that we have forgotten who we are, Lysander. You were right. We are not kings. We never were meant to be. We are shepherds. Shepherds do not rule. They guide. They nurture. They protect. Because they know it is not the shepherd who produces. It is the flock. Without the flock, we are just beggars with sticks and esoteric rites. It is our time to find humility. To show we are more than autocrats. I need you to be the man you claim to be, Lysander."

"If a man cannot learn from his mistakes, then what hope is there but to kill us all at first sin?"

"My little storm, what in the worlds have you been up to?"

"Acta non verba (Deeds not words)"

"Honor. It sounds so silly when you say it enough,” I reply. “It can excuse anything. But we only pretend it protects. Yet it is there. A feeling of what is true and what is slippery and false. But you’re right. I do have it. That inclination, maybe more of a desperation, to have honor. But time and again, I’ve found that it’s like opening a vein while swimming with sharks."