People are saying very kind things about Twilight of the Wolves.
As soon as Twilight of the Wolves begins, you know it’s music. Music made by the hands digging deep into the underground, into determined earth-dirtying of the senses. The symmetry of notes makes this crystalline, each clause engineered into mantra-like potential. “And then he fell away, his life drifted away, the vision inside him, growing, rebuilding, creating newness, wholeness out of neverness. The song, nothing but the song, and Her eyes, ephemeral and purple, galactic dust swallowing him, and he swam in that twilit world of nothings and nowheres until it thickened, viscous, and filled him again.”
An absorbing read that offers readers a grim, bleak and dark tale. It paints a word in flames, dying from within. Imagine a dark night sky, with a sole star. You know something’s there but you can barely make it out. Well that star will grow and become a brighter star and perhaps light up the night sky until it is day. Well, that star is Sao.
Sao meets a dying god:
Because Connor reminded me of high school: