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“Hecate stood over him then, and she seemed taller, her pupils narrow slits like the cunning glare of a serpent. "Oh, Aidoneus. Aren't you tired of being afraid? Aren't you ready to take control of what is inside you?" "No," he denied, his voice a growl. "I do not wish it. I wish to forget." "Forget." Her laugh was low. "When the marks are so deep inside you, they are etched on your soul? Do you truly believe you can forget? You cannot be that naive.” — Heidi Hastings
Hecate stood over him then, and she seemed taller, her pupils narrow slits like the cunning glare of a serpent. "Oh, Aidoneus. Aren't you tired of being afraid? Aren't you ready to take control of what is inside you?"
"No," he denied, his voice a growl. "I do not wish it. I wish to forget."
"Forget." Her laugh was low. "When the marks are so deep inside you, they are etched on your soul? Do you truly believe you can forget? You cannot be that naive.