R. F. Kuang

This had to be the end. Their wartime capital had fallen, her friends were dead or broken, and Altan . .

“He’s supposed to be our commander,” she said hoarsely. “How can he fight when he—when he’s like that?”
“We cover for him,” Ramsa said quietly. “He never used to do it more than once a month.”

The Federation had massacred Golyn Niis for the simple reason that they did not think of the Nikara as human.

Warfare was about absolutes. Us or them. Victory or defeat. There was no middle way. There was no mercy. No surrender.
This was the same logic, Rin realized, that had justified the destruction of Speer. To the Federation, to wipe out an entire race overnight was not an atrocity at all. Only a necessity.

“Who cares what your Empress says?” Chaghan screamed. His hands shook wildly. “Fuck your Empress! Your Empress fled!”
“She’s one of us,” Altan said. “You know she is. If we have her, and we have the Gatekeeper, then we can lead this army—”

“This isn’t you,” Chaghan said. “This is about Speer. This is about your revenge. That’s all you Speerlies do, you hate and burn and destroy without consequence

“I am about to do something terrible,” he said. “And you will have a choice. You can choose to come with me to the prison under the stone. I believe you know what I intend to do there.”
“Yes.” She knew, without asking, what was imprisoned in the Chuluu Korikh.
Unnatural criminals, who have committed unnatural crimes.

The gods walking in humans, with no regard for the mortal world

She glanced down at his slender brown fingers.

“But I need your help. I need another Speerly.”
She glanced down at his slender brow