She will not come back, but her beauty, her voice, will echo until the end of time. She believed in something beyond herself, and her death gave her voice power it didnt have in life. She was pure, like your father. We, you and I he touches my chest with the back of his index finger are dirty. We are made for blood. Rough hands. Dirty hearts. We are lesser creatures in the grand scheme of things, but without us men of war, no one except those of Lykos would hear Eos song. Without our rough hands, the dreams of the pure hearts would never be built.
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About Pierce Brown, Red Rising
Pierce Brown, Red Rising.