You felt debased again today. Shall I tell you why? Your inordinate ambition is boundless. Your motives are not focused on the good of the matter but on your honor. You do not work for humanity but for yourself. You do not strive for the com?letion of the thing but for your recognition. I want to honor you with a prickly crown of iron. This laurel shall suffice you. And now we come to the vile swindle that you pursue with your intellect. You speak more skillfully than others; and thus you abuse your capability and discolor and tone down and strengthen and touch up, and loudly proclaim your honorableness and credulity. You gloatingly leave others in the lurch, if they only get caught in your snares. You epploit their naivety in orderto ?resent yourself as wiser and su?erior. You play at modesty and do not mention your merit, in the certain hope that someone else will do it for you; you are disappointed and withdraw hurt if this doesn’t happen.
You love effects—yes, if only for the sake of others!; But those you begrudge them—you love them for yourself. You cannot help loving hearing yourself speak. In particular you like to listen to your affects in speaking—though not for the sake of others, but solely for your sake.
(Bugün yine kendini aşağılanmış hissettin. Nedenini söyleyeyim mi? Aşırı hırsın sınır tanımıyor. Niyetlerin meselenin yararına değil, kendi şerefine odaklanmış. İnsanlık için değil, kendin için çalışıyorsun. İşin tamamlanması için değil, tanınmak için çabalıyorsun. Seni dikenli bir demir taçla onurlandırmak istiyorum. Bu defne tacı sana yetecektir. Ve şimdi zekânla peşinde olduğun alçakça dolandırıcılığa geliyoruz. Diğerlerinden daha ustaca konuşuyorsun; ve böylece yeteneğini kötüye kullanır, rengini bozar, tonunu düşürür, güçlendirir ve dokunursun, ve
I think we’re all insecure and foolish in our own way. Some of us are like the First Disciple, always looking ahead. Others linger in the past like the Second Disciple. But for all of us, it’s easy to forget what’s important. I think the Time God assigns sleep time to the Third Disciple to help people. You know how yesterday’s worries are gone after a good night’s sleep, and we are fully refreshed to start a new day? That’s it!
📚🔔 Tatil zili çaldı!
Bir yıl boyunca verilen emeklerin ardından şimdi dinlenme, keşfetme ve yeni maceralara atılma zamanı. 🌞
Bu yaz bol kahkahalı, bol anılı ve elbette bol kitaplı geçsin. Tüm öğrencilere keyifli tatiller diliyoruz! 💙📖
“Do you mean to let people think and feel, even in their sleep? How would that be any help for them?”
“The memories experienced during sleep will strengthen weak souls. And when they wake up the next day, they won’t forget what’s important.”
New Task
On the other side of the hall, the portrait of Merlin clicks, and the entire
thing creaks open. A man steps through it, looking like a warrior who
traveled through time. He has a long gray beard, and his face is lined with
age. Unlike the rest of the people in the room, he’s dressed in actual chain
mail armor with a silvery breastplate. And emblazoned on the breastplate is
the Merlin Court coat of arms I’ve seen around this tower—one with an
owl, stars, and the cycle of the moon. His armor groans as he crosses the
large hall.
For a moment, I wonder if the rumors are true, if Merlin never died, and
maybe he’s returned to us through his own portrait. But this man looks
nothing like Merlin, and he wears a silver torc.
“Who is that?” I whisper to Serana.
“Sir Kay,” she whispers. “He is the leader of MI-13.”
He crosses to an empty chair set at the round table and takes a seat.
“Thank you all for coming on such short notice.” His deep,
commanding voice resonates around the room. “What we’re discussing
today is of the utmost secrecy. There will be no sharing of any of this with
anyone at the academy. Or, obviously, outside it.”
I exchange looks with Tana and Serana. What are the three of us even
doing here?
“As you all know, MI-13’s efforts are held back by the veil,” he
continues. “We make do with our Sentinels opening the way to small task
forces, but it has limited our options.”
Nivene raises her eyebrow at me and nods.
“The veil is maintained by the Fey’s magicians,” adds Sir Kay. “Up
until two months ago, there were ten. However, one of them was sent to
assassinate one of our Sentinels and was killed.” He glances for the briefest
second in my direction. “And another veil mage was sent to take out our
entire cadet force, and was also, luckily, stopped and killed.” He
The Culling Test
“Wow, demi-Fey? I’ve never seen one. What did they look like?”
“Fucking weird, pardon my language. The man had pointy ears,
obviously. Dark hair. Tattoos on his arms, eerie silver eyes like metal.
Beautiful blonde woman with him. You know, I don’t mind the women
demi-Fey quite as much. I’d give her one,” he says thoughtfully. “Pardon
the expression.”
I toss a horseshoe, and it clatters to the floor of his stall. A thought starts
to blossom in my mind. “Did they have anything with them?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Why do you ask?”
I open my eyes wide. “Well, like you said, they’re dangerous. And you
know the saying, if you see something, say something.”
He holds up a finger. “Do you know what, love? The fella was carrying
something. It was in a box, like a musical instrument or something. They
never brought it out again.” His eyes widen. “Do you think they could be
planning something? You don’t think it was a bomb, do you?” He scrubs a
hand over his mouth. “With all these people here? Should I call the police?”
I toss both horseshoes one after the other, so off the mark that one
nearly hits one of the prize dolls. “It’s probably nothing. I doubt demi-Fey
even know how to make a bomb. We don’t want the police shutting the
whole fair down over an empty box.”
What I know at this point is that Raphael and Vivian came in earlier and
left a package here, then left.
The Excalibur replica.
“We will obviously need to reschedule the shadow trial.” Wrythe sighs.
“Ms. Melisende can do it properly with the rest of the cadets.”
“No,” Raphael says.
Wrythe frowns at him. “Right. You think she should be expelled after
all?”
“She won’t do the shadow trial again. She’s shown her leadership by
sending cadets to call for backup,” Raphael says. “She followed an enemy
agent through the fair
Maps and Family
I glance at the Dream Stalker and see his dark eyes searching in the
crowd. He’s not looking at me, and yet I feel the full intensity of his
attention like an electrical charge.
He cocks his head, staring at the stage again. A lock of his black hair
rests on one of his sharp cheekbones. A chill ripples over my body.
A deep, murmuring voice floats through my thoughts, and my heart
skips a beat. It’s the phantom, sensual voice I often hear. He’s speaking in
Fey about a party he threw, and the heat of desire that made bodies shimmer
with the otherworldly colors of twilight. And the flame-haired woman so
obsessed with the pleasure of his tongue that she stripped naked the
moment they were alone together. He delighted in the poses she struck for
him that night, baring herself in every way. She likes it when he tugs her
hair. And yet, he feels something is missing…
My pulse starts to race. It’s him, isn’t it?
The voice I’ve been hearing all these years when I’m alone and tired.
The sometimes violent, sometimes sensual voluptuary who speaks to me
when I’m in that liminal space between waking and dreaming, murmuring
in a velvety voice.
Of course it would be him—the Dream Stalker. It makes sense. Dreams
are woven from our worst fears and greatest desires. And that’s what his
voice has always been in my mind.
My heart is beating wildly out of control. I’ve been hearing his poetic,
dark, and often absolutely filthy thoughts since I was about eighteen. Oh,
gods, sometimes I actually liked hearing his voice. Sometimes, it turned me
on.
How can it be? My telepathy only works by touch. How could I have
heard his thoughts all these years, even when we were thousands of miles
apart?
He suddenly seems to tighten, his thoughts more aware. They seem to
be searching for something. For