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“The black water nipping at her thrashing heels was freezing. Not the bite of winter chill, or even the burn of solid ice, but something colder. Deeper. The cold of the gaps between stars, teh cold of a world before light. The cold of hell- true hell, she realised as she bucked against the strong hands trying to shove her into the Cauldron. True hell, because that was Elain lying on the stone floor with the red-haired, one-eyed Fae male hovering over her. Because those were pointed ears poking through her sister's sodden gold-brown hair, and an immortal glow radiating from Elain's fair skin. True hell- worse than the inky depths mere inches from her toes.” — Sarah J. Maas
The black water nipping at her thrashing heels was freezing.
Not the bite of winter chill, or even the burn of solid ice, but something colder. Deeper.
The cold of the gaps between stars, teh cold of a world before light.
The cold of hell- true hell, she realised as she bucked against the strong hands trying to shove her into the Cauldron.
True hell, because that was Elain lying on the stone floor with the red-haired, one-eyed Fae male hovering over her. Because those were pointed ears poking through her sister's sodden gold-brown hair, and an immortal glow radiating from Elain's fair skin.
True hell- worse than the inky depths mere inches from her toes.