The air is heavy. Take a deep breath in. Breathe out. Feel it dry out your throat and nose, feel the musty scent of change swirl through your lungs. Taste the death and rebirth on your tongue as the wind carries life and decomposition to you. The world is changing, evolving, being reborn even as it dies.
…so small and plain in a world of gods, it’s almost as if he’s the hero nobly struggling against a father who rejected him, against a Society that laughs at his size, his weakness, and scorns him as a cannibal even though it was they who told him to do whatever he had to do to win. Golden Son 60-61
