Draped with iron, encased in it, she slept. Dreamed. Drifted through seas, through darkness, through fire. A princess of nothing. Nameless.

Anger was better than feeling nothing; because anger and hatred were the long-lasting fuel in the endless dark of my despair. The same way that music had kept me from breaking.

Ten years of shadows, but no longer. Light up the darkness, Magesty.

There are different kinds of darkness,” Rhys said. I kept my eyes shut. “There is the darkness that frightens, the darkness that soothes, the darkness that is restful.” I pictured each. “There is the darkness of lovers, and the darkness of assassins. It becomes what the bearer wishes it to be, needs it to be. It is not wholly bad or good.

When you spend so long trapped in darkness, you find that the darkness begins to stare back.

Ten years of shadows, but no longer. Light up the darkness, Majesty.

She leaned forward, letting some of that wicked darkness shine through her eyes.

The darkness had no end and no beginning. It was the best that had haunted her steps for ten years, and she free-fell into it, welcomed it.

There is the darkness that frightens, the darkness that soothes, the darkness that is restful.