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War doesn't determine who's right. War determines who remains.
I have become something wonderful, she thought. I have become
something terrible. Was she now a goddess or a monster?
Perhaps neither. Perhaps both.
But Rin was looking past the flag at a face in the ranks— a boy, a beautiful boy with the palest skin and lovely almond eyes.
Their eyes met under the moonlight. Rin’s heart leaped.
The Empire didn’t need someone reasonable. It needed someone mad enough to try to save it.
“Altan is going to lose because Khurdalain is not winnable, and when he does, it’s going to break him.”
“Altan won’t break.” she said. Altan was the strongest fighter she’d ever seen. Altan couldn’t break.
“Altan is more fragile than you think.”
“I should have never summoned that god… Our minds are meant to be our own, not shared with these things…”
Altan Trengsin was not invincible after all.
He had been so good at following orders. They told him to jump and he flew. They told him to fight and get destroyed.
But here at the end, without a purpose and without a ruler, Altan Trengsin was broken.
From a distance, he was extraordinarily beautiful. Up close, he was hypnotizing.
“You humans always think you’re destined for things, for tragedy or for greatness. Destiny is a myth. Destiny is the only myth. The gods choose nothing. You chose.”
He called the Phoenix and the Phoenix came; enveloping him, embracing him, loving him, bringing him back into the fold.
Rin saw in the flames the image or Mai’rinnen Tearza. She was weeping.
The fire doesn’t give, the fire takes, and takes, and takes.