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... on the papers, fingertips to elbows drenched in blood. My vision hazes over, red so thick, I can hardly see the figures or the letters. Sweat beads on my forehead as my teeth clench.

The ache is unbearable, but her screams haven’t stopped echoing through the walls.

The Voss emissary was speaking, something about missionaries from lands so far across the seas and weapons and mechanisms like nothing we’ve ever heard of before, but every time Valka screamed, the room falls silent. < ...

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It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

—— Dickens《A Tale of Two Cities》

I made myself a ghost back to life from death, with hatred in my bones and conspiracy brewed for years, sinking into the marsh, into the abyss. All I want is to bury the rotten roots, growing thistles and thorns which can kill like upas, to stab into the hypocritical civilization.

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