She stared at Raven in a long second of shocked silence, before sagging to the floor.

Your desire for vengeance will cause countless deaths, child,_ she said, pointing a crooked finger at Rhylie. __nnocents will be caught up in your maelstrom, their lives torn apart. People you have never met, and will never know will die beneath your shadow if you do not stop. You tear the galaxy asunder with each step you take towards Vorcia.

We're not in a fairytale story. This is not a movie. Scriptwriters don't write our fates. We do.

The Professor gripped his axe, having pulled it, with some difficulty, from the boy's head.

If I can keep writing just one good page a day, I will have 15 published novels in my expected lifetime. Tick, tick, tick...

For the first time she realized she'd spent so much time mourning a world that had ended ages ago, hoping to resurrect it, that she'd never paid attention to what it was becoming. Or returning to again, now that it was unfettered. Where were the centaurs, she might have asked instead. Where were the gorgons, the furies, the giants and the gods?