He has a story. A story worth more than my own beating heart. He has a name. A name that — if it were only uttered aloud, breathed out in the meekest, softest whisper — would shake the Cold to its arctic foundations. Cut it in half like an ignited sword. Tear it asunder, and cast it broken and crippled from this place. His is the name of fire. The name that rides the whisper of the candlelight.

-The Penitent God

Auteur: S.G. Night