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“Everything was black, and warm- and thick. Inky, but bordered with gold. I was swimming, kicking for the surface, where Tamlin was waiting, where life was waiting. Up and up, frantic for air. The golden light grew, and the darkness became like sparkling wine, easier to swim through, the bubbles fizzing around me, and- I gasped, air flooding my throat. I was lying on the cold floor. No pain- no blood, no broken bones. I blinked. A chandelier dangled above me- I'd never noticed how intricate the crystals were, how the hushed gasp of the crowd echoed off them. A crowd- meaning I was still in the throne room, meaning I... I truly wasn't dead. Meaning I had... I had killed those... I had... The room spun. I groaned as I braced my hands against the floor, readying myself to stand, but- the sight of my skin stopped me cold. It gleamed with a strange light, and my fingers seemed longer where I'd laid them flat on the marble. I pushed to my feet. I felt- felt strong, and fast and sleek. And- And I'd become High Fae.” — Sarah J. Maas