Victoria Aveyard

In school, we learned about the world before ours, about the angels and gods that lived in the sky, ruling the earth with kind and loving hands.

The gods rule us still. They have come down from the stars. And they are no longer kind.

“I’m never getting better, Mare. I’m never going to feel better. I can’t let her hope for that, not when I know it’ll never happen. Do you understand?”

All too well, Dad.

I cannot slip. Not now, not ever. I’m one of them. I’m special. I’m an accident. I’m a lie. And my life depends on maintaining the illusion.

And even sparks burn.

Revolution needs a spark,

He saved me, he brought me home, he broke the rules for me. And he’s a merciless soldier, the heir to a bloody throne.

She’s beating us without firing a shot or drawing a blade. Words are all she needs.

Red as the dawn.