Ig Quotes

He's gonna be fine," I confirmed. Can we see him?" Iggy asked. Ig, I hate to break it to you, but you're blind.

It bewildered Ig, the idea that a person could not be interested in music. It was like not being interested in happiness.

Gazzy called over to me "I can't see anything!" "I can't see anything either," Iggy complained. "I'm rolling my eyes, Ig." I had to tell him that because he couldn't see me do it, what with his blindness and all.

It's like in the Bible.You can't always get what you want, but if you really need something, you usually find it." "What part of the Bible is that from?" Ig asked her. "The Gospel of Keith Richards?

It's okay, Ig." said Fang. "Just give it your best shot." Sometimes the Fangster is incredibly supportive, just not with me.

Terry was cool, cooler then Ig would ever be, but he was afraid. His fear narrowed his vision so that he couldn't see anything except what he stood to lose.

I liked AC/DC," Lee said. "If you were going to shoot someone, you'd really want to do it while you were listening to them." "What about the Beatles? Did you feel like shooting anyone listening to them?" Lee considered seriously for a moment, then said, "Myself." At the same time he was laughing, Ig was distressed. Not liking the Beatles was almost as bad as not knowing about them at all.

Ig­nore how it feels when the on­ly re­al tal­ent you have is for hid­ing the truth.

It never works out! *kicks rock, it hits a window, sirens go off* (iggy) Uh oh. (max) Up and away guys! Come on iggy, we gotta go. (iggy) No. *sits down* (max) Iggy, come on! (iggy) No! It's different for you, you don't know what it's like, Yeah I make jokes- I'm the blind kid, but don't you see? Every time we move I'm lost all over again, you guys- It's much easier for you. Even your lost isn't as bad as my lost. You know *sirens coming closer* (max) Ig, i know it's hard, but if you think I'm going to let you give up on us now, you've got another think coming. Yes, you're a blind mutant freak, but you're my blind mutant freak, and you're coming with me, now, you're coming with us right now, or I swear I will kick your skinny white ass from here to the middle of next week. *Iggy raises his head lights flashing telling max that he cops were almost on top of them* (max) Iggy, I need you, I love you. I need all of you, all five of you, to fell whole myself. Now get up, before I kill you." *Iggy stands* "Well, when you put it that way..." *max smiles* come on ig *they fly off*

Mia: I’m bored. We’re done. Then I block his number and his IG.

It didn't make any logical sense for her to be worried, although Ig knew that worry and logic rarely traveled together.

They wrote stories about us. Me, the Ig’Morruthen, and you, Samkiel, the World Ender. Two creatures destined to spill each other’s blood until the cosmos bleed.

Pessimism all along the line. Absolutely. Mistrust in the fate of literature, mistrust in the fate of freedom, mistrust in the fate of European humanity, but three times mistrust in all reconciliation: between classes, between nations, between individuals. And unlimited trust only in IG Farben and the peaceful perfecting of the air force. But what now? What next?

He had won it as a child, playing Scriptural Jeopardy in his Sunday-school class. When faced with answers from the Bible, Ig had all the right questions.

Terry is sure that Ig has never even kissed another girl, let alone fucked one, and he has wished for a while now that Iggy had more experience. Not because Terry didn't want his brother to be with Merrin, but because...well, because. Because love requires context. Because first relationships are by their very nature immature. So Merrin wanted them both to have a chance to grow up. So what?

Thirty years of overlapping graffiti covered the walls. The individual messages were mostly incoherent, but then perhaps the individual messages were of no importance. It seemed to Ig that all such messages were the same at heart: I Am; I Was; I Want to Be.

Ig had not been inside for years, but it was much as he remembered it. The foundry lay open to the sky, brick arches and pillars rising away into the slanting reddish light. Thirty years of overlapping graffiti covered the walls. The individual messages were mostly incoherent, but then perhaps the individual messages were of no importance. It seemed to Ig that all such messages were the same at heart: I Am; I Was; I Want To Be.

She was half talking to herself or, maybe more accurately, talking with her own private devil, a demon that just also happened to have Ig Perrish's face.

If I could hold the whole world in my arms and hug it, to thank it for giving me life i would, but i can't i'm not big enough, i need help, from everyone. By ig Oliver.

We can’t move forward as a human race until we all act as a humane race, and treat our world with humanity with a touch of humility. By ig Oliver

I finally found my way back, Ig. I'm okay. I'm where it's safe.

asking for an IgG/IgE blood panel testing for food allergies. You’ll get a report listing the foods that you’re sensitive to—your list of personal Kryptonite.

the transliterated name and address of the addresser of the 3 letters in reversed alphabetic boustrophedonic punctated quadrilinear cryptogram (vowels suppressed) N. IGS./WI. UU. OX/W. OKS. MH/Y. IM:

Happiness is something that you cannot see. It is naturally felt. When you feel it, you wouldn't wanna let go of it. It makes you smile. It keeps you going. It gives you the energy that nothing and nobody can give. Ig pushes to do things that renders positive vibe inside. Happiness is felt in the most unexpected time and place. It's a natural phenomenon.

She took time to think on things; but time had already moved on without her.

I looked at it out there. The figures that held my attention, as always (I too had an office at Buna, and spent many hours in front of its window), the figures that held my attention were not the men in stripes, as they queued or scurried in lines or entangled one another in a kind of centipedal scrum, moving at an unnatural speed, like extras in a silent film, moving faster than their strength or build could bear, as if in obedience to a frantic crank swivelled by a furious hand; the figures that held my attention were not the Kapos who screamed at the prisoners, nor the SS noncoms who screamed at the Kapos, nor the overalled company foremen who screamed at the SS noncoms. No. What held my eye were the figures in city business suits, designers, engineers, administrators from IG Farben plants in Frankfurt, Leverkusen, Ludwigshafen, with leather-bound notebooks and retractable yellow measuring tapes, daintily picking their way past the bodies of the wounded, the unconscious, and the dead.

If Ig hated Merrin now, it was only because he had discovered she was a real person, with failings and needs and desire to live in the world, not in Ig's daydreams. That she loved him enough to let him go, and he had to be willing to do the same, that if you loved someone, you could set them free, and - fuck, that was a Sting song.

It seemed to Ig that all such messages were the same at heart: I Am; I Was; I Want to Be.

Ig laughed at that. The things people said. The effortless way they lied, to others, to themselves.

What's He ever done for you?" Ig asked her. "Does he make it hurt less when people laugh at you behind your back? Or more- because for His sake you're all alone in the world?

Sometimes if you listen carefully, you can hear the book. Is it you reading or is the book talking. By ig Oliver @originalYowza

Writing is art creation and knowledge, it’s the understanding of the equation, it cry’s it laughs it answers don’t forget how to use it. By ig Oliver

And at last Lee said, "What are those goddamn things on your head?" He sounded genuinely surprised. "Jesus, Ig. Are those horns?

Aquilo deixou Ig perplexo, a ideia de que alguém pudesse não se interessar por música. Era como não se interessar por felicidade.

Stalked your FB and followed you on IG Liked your posts, commented tirelessly Boy, I can go on with this endlessly I like you too much. I know it's creepy.

You and Merrin's mother-have you really been praying for me to die?" "More or less," Mould said. "To be honest, most of the time when she's calling to God, she's riding my dick." "Do you know why He hasn't struck me down?" Ig asked. "Do you know why God hasn't answered your prayers?" "Why?" "Because there is no God. Your prayers are whispers to an empty room." ..."Bullshit." "It's all a lie. There's never been anyone there.

I used to resent obstacles along the path, thinking, ‘If only that hadn’t happened life would be so good.’ Then I suddenly realized, life is the obstacles. There is no underlying path.” Janna Levin TW/IG: @jannalevin

Ig knew her, of course. It was the same woman who had served him and Merrin drinks on their last night together. Her face was framed by two wings of lank black hair that curled under her long, pointed chin, so she looked like the female version of the wizard who was always giving Harry Potter such a hard time in the movies. Professor Snail or something. Ig had been waiting to read the books with the children he and Merrin planned to have together.

Why don’t you hit Ig?” Terry whispered. “He’s the one checking out little redheads. Thinking lustful thoughts. He’s coveting. Look at him. You can see it on his face. Look at that coveting expression.” “Covetous,” Derrick said.

EACH CANDLE CAST ITS OWN shadow against the curved brick ceiling, so that six featureless devils crowded together above Ig, mourners in black, gathered over the casket. They swayed from side to side to a dirge only they could hear.

He’s gonna be fine,” I confirmed. “Can we see him?” Iggy asked. “Ig, I hate to break this to you, but you’re blind,” I said, my relief making me tease him. “However, in a little while you can go listen to him breathe and maybe talk to him.

Thirty-four companies—many of them still household names today, like Krupp, AEG Telefunken, Siemens, Bayer, and IG Farben—made fortunes from the tortured labor of Jews, Russians, Poles, some Allied prisoners of war, and German prisoners of conscience.

He felt he was being swept away, not just from his life but from God, the idea of God, or hope, or reason, the idea that things made sense, that cause followed effect, and it ought not to be like this, Ig felt, death ought not to be like this, even for sinners. He

physicist James Franck, head of the physics department at Haber’s institute, who, like Haber and Hahn, would later win the Nobel Prize.342 So did a crowd of industrial chemists employed by I.G. Farben, a cartel of eight chemical companies assembled in wartime by the energetic Carl Duisberg of Bayer.

I haven't got a clue on how to love you like a lover should, how to make you happy or even how to make you stay. I hardly grasp the essence of desire and true affection scares me more than it should, but know that every stutter, every shy glance, every hesitant touch, come from someone who believes in you and I.

Ig had always liked to listen to his father, to watch him while he played. It was almost wrong to say his father played. It often seemed the other way around: that the horn was playing him. The way his cheeks swole out, then caved in as if he were being inhaled into it, the way the golden keys seemed to grab his fingers like little magnets snatching at iron filings, causing them to leap and dance in unexpected, startling fits. The way he shut his eyes and bent his head and twisted back and forth at the hips, as if his torso were in auger, screwing its way deeper and deeper into the centre of his being, pulling the music up from somewhere in the pit of his belly.

I hate it when you call me Eds." "I know," Richie said, hugging him tightly, "but somebody has to toughen you up, Eds. When you stop leading the sheltered igs-zis-tence of a child and grow up, you gonna, Ah, say, Ah say you gonna find out life ain't always this easy, boy!" Eddie began to shriek with laughter. "That's the shittiest Voice I ever heard, Richie.

No shame, no game

The three industries/industrialists tried were I.G. Farben (Carl Krauch, et al.), Flick KG (Friedrich Flick, et al.), and Krupp Group (Alfried Krupp, et. al.).

But I will say this. Donald Trump would not know the men and women of the FBI if he ran over them with the presidential limo, and he has shown the citizens of this country that he does not know what democracy means. He demonstrates no understanding or appreciation of our form of government. He takes no action to protect it. Has any president done more to undermine democracy than this one? His “I hereby demand” tweet in May 2018, ordering Department of Justice investigations of the investigators who are investigating him—I can barely believe that I just wrote that phrase—is a clear example. His demand for documents identifying confidential informants does harm to the men and women of the FBI on a fundamental level. It undermines their ability to build the trust that allows law-enforcement investigations to take place, in ways that, I want to believe, he does not comprehend. To think that he could recognize what constitutes a good thing for the men and women of the FBI does not deserve comment. As for my own firing and the ostensible reasons behind it, the demands and risks of an ongoing legal process put tight constraints on what I can say, although I would like to say much more. I am filing a suit that challenges my firing and the IG’s process and findings, and the unprecedented way DOJ handled my termination. I will let that action speak for itself.

The thing you need to realize is this: the game is. never over until it is over. It isn't over ig there is a single pawn still on the board. If one side is down to a pawn and a king, and the other side has every player, there is stil a game. And even if you were a pawn -maybe we all are- then you should remember that a pawn is the most magical piece of all. It might look small and ordinary but it isn't. Because a pawn is never just a pawn. A pawn is a queen-in-waiting. All you need to do is find a way to keep moving forward. One square after an other. and you can get to the other side and unlock all kinds of power.

The cash arrived without warning. None of the officials at the bank branch in Erbil knew the money was coming, and they had no idea at first what to do with it. The Americans unloaded it into piles, after which it was stored in the bank building until bank officials could figure out what to do next. Later, after senior American officials realized that the cash had been left with bank officials who were entirely unprepared to receive it, they called back to the bank branch in Erbil to check on it. The American officials were told that the cash had been taken care of and that everything was fine, according to staffers with Bowen’s IG office. The CPA never saw the money again, never knew where it went or how it was spent.

Per­fec­tion is nearly al­ways im­possible, but it is never dif­fi­cult. Which is to say that if there is any dif­fi­culty to it, any lack of ease, then it has already failed of per­fec­tion. All per­fect things are easy. But they are not fre­quent. The mar­ried life of Charles Peis­son and Dotty was per­fect. From the mo­ment that Charles re­turned to town, everything was per­fect. The mark of per­fec­tion is its very sim­pli­city. Charles had a knack for un­ty­ing knots, for resolv­ing dif­fi­culties. The knack does not con­sist of ig­nor­ing the dif­fi­culties nor in skirt­ing them. It doesn’t even con­sist of fa­cing them and con­quer­ing them in the old copy-book fash­ion, though ap­par­ently they are faced and conquered in an­other fash­ion. Or some of them are never conquered at all. Part of the idea is just not to be dif­fi­cult about dif­fi­culties. If the rest of the idea were un­der­stood, then every­one would have per­fec­tion; and they do not.

Es conveniente el intentar dar de este modo, con la imaginación, a una especie cualquiera, una ventaja sobre otra. Es probable que ni en un solo caso sabríamos cómo hacerlo. Esto debiera convencernos de nuestra ig- norancia acerca de las relaciones mutuas de todos los seres orgánicos, convicción tan necesaria como difícil de adquirir. Todo lo que podemos hacer es tener siempre presente que todo ser orgánico está esforzándose por aumentar en razón geométrica, que todo ser orgánico, en algún perí- odo de su vida, durante alguna estación del año, durante todas las gene- raciones o con intervalos, tiene que luchar por la vida y sufrir gran des- trucción. Cuando reflexionamos sobre esta lucha nos podemos consolar con la completa seguridad de que la guerra en la naturaleza no es ince- sante, que no se siente ningún miedo, que la muerte es generalmente rá- pida y que el vigoroso, el sano, el feliz, sobrevive y se multiplica. (El origen de las especies p.66 cap 3 la lucha por la existencia)

Laura Poitras I knew as a documentarian, primarily concerned with America’s post-9/11 foreign policy. Her film My Country, My Country depicted the 2005 Iraqi national elections that were conducted under (and frustrated by) the US occupation. She had also made The Program, about the NSA cryptanalyst William Binney—who had raised objections through proper channels about TRAILBLAZER, the predecessor of STELLARWIND, only to be accused of leaking classified information, subjected to repeated harassment, and arrested at gunpoint in his home, though never charged. Laura herself had been frequently harassed by the government because of her work, repeatedly detained and interrogated by border agents whenever she traveled in or out of the country. Glenn Greenwald I knew as a civil liberties lawyer turned columnist, initially for Salon—where he was one of the few who wrote about the unclassified version of the NSA IG’s Report back in 2009—and later for the US edition of the Guardian. I liked him because he was skeptical and argumentative, the kind of man who’d fight with the devil, and when the devil wasn’t around fight with himself. Though Ewen MacAskill, of the British edition of the Guardian, and Bart Gellman of the Washington Post would later prove stalwart partners (and patient guides to the journalistic wilderness), I found my earliest affinity with Laura and Glenn, perhaps because they weren’t merely interested in reporting on the IC but had personal stakes in understanding the institution.

In September 1999, the Department of Justice succeeded in denaturalizing 63 participants in Nazi acts of persecution; and in removing 52 such individuals from this country. This appears to be but a small portion of those who actually were brought here by our own government. A 1999 report to the Senate and the House said "that between 1945 and 1955, 765 scientists, engineers, and technicians were brought to the United States under Overcast, Paperclip, and similar programs. It has been estimated that at least half, and perhaps as many as 80 percent of all the imported specialists were former Nazi Party members." A number of these scientists were recruited to work for the Air Force's School of Aviation Medicine (SAM) at Brooks Air Force Base in Texas, where dozens of human radiation experiments were conducted during the Cold War. Among them were flash-blindness studies in connection with atomic weapons tests and data gathering for total-body irradiation studies conducted in Houston. The experiments for which Nazi investigators were tried included many related to aviation research. Hubertus Strughold, called "the father of space medicine," had a long career at the SAM, including the recruitment of other Paperclip scientists in Germany. On September 24, 1995 the Jewish Telegraphic Agency reported that as head of Nazi Germany's Air Force Institute for Aviation Medicine, Strughold particpated in a 1942 conference that discussed "experiments" on human beings. The experiments included subjecting Dachau concentration camp inmates to torture and death. The Edgewood Arsenal of the Army's Chemical Corps as well as other military research sites recruited these scientists with backgrounds in aeromedicine, radiobiology, and opthamology. Edgewood Arsenal, Maryland ended up conducting experiments on more than seven thousand American soldiers. Using Auschwitz experiments as a guide, they conducted the same type of poison gas experiments that had been done in the secret I.G. Farben laboratories.

Lies!” B shouts, shooting up from the couch and cupping his butt in both hands. “Do we need to do a side-by-side comparison and put it up for a vote on our IG stories again?” E asks, finding a way to brag about his win as Best Crabs Ass from years ago. “Bring it, Dennings. I’ve been doing my squats. Your ass is grass this time.” B cocks a hip to spank himself in front of E’s face.

Norsk Hydro wanted to know the purpose of such a large order, but with experiments using heavy water now labeled SH-200, a high-level military secret, the IG Farben representative offered only silence. Not long after, the Norwegians did find out, from Jacques Allier, what that purpose was: the potential development of an atomic bomb.

IgA can protect mucous membranes (like the lining of the digestive tract and the lining of the respiratory tract) from bacteria and viruses. That’s why breastfed babies are less likely to have diarrheal illnesses or colds in the first year. Most other diseases can be prevented with other types of antibodies. These protective antibodies can cross the placenta from the mother to the baby, but they cannot be passed in breast milk. That’s why breastfeeding can’t replace vaccination. Even if the mother is immune to whooping cough, for example, she can’t pass that immunity to her baby through breast milk. She can pass it through the placenta during pregnancy, but those antibodies will last in the baby’s bloodstream for only six months at the longest.

El poder altera y corrompe la mente de todos sus usuarios pero además los va haciendo adictos a él, y como las drogas a más poder más adicción. Por tanto el poder es una droga más, y su consumo frecuente causa una importante pérdida en la identidad y del sentido y propósito vital de la persona. El todopoderoso es en realidad un drogadicto que ha perdido su libertad, sólo desea más droga (más poder) hasta llegar al poder absoluto, que transforma y corrompe absolutamente toda mente humana. ¡Y el que ostenta el poder manda, con ideas buenas o malas ciertas o erróneas!

El IG se mide de 0 a 100. 100 es la glucosa pura. Se considera un IG alto el de los alimentos que van de 50 a 100, de manera que, para evitar los picos de glucosa, lo ideal es consumir alimentos que se encuentren entre el 50 y el 0 IG.

Existe algo peor que el jarabe de glucosa y es el jarabe de maíz, con un IG de 110.

La fruta, dependiendo de la que se trate, se encuentra entre un IG de 35 y de 50.

IG ALTO • Dátiles (IG 70) • Zanahorias cocidas (IG 85) • Patatas (dependiendo de cómo las cocines, su IG va de 90 a 95) • Patatas fritas de bolsa, las de aperitivo (IG 98) • Arroz (según las variedades varía su IG de 90 a 60) • Risotto… mi querido risotto (IG 113, porque suelta su almidón) • Cereales de desayuno (IG 70) • Muesli con azúcar (IG 70) • Copos de maíz (IG 70) • Bebidas isotónicas (IG 80) • Refrescos con azúcar (IG 70)

Siempre nos quedarán el arroz salvaje y el rojo. El primero no contiene arsénico y en el segundo solo se encuentran trazas, es decir, cantidades insignificantes. En cuanto a su índice glucémico: el del arroz salvaje es bajo, de 35 y el del rojo se nos escapa por muy poco del límite que buscamos ya que tiene un IG de 55.

They said I changed a lot. I said A lot changed me.

Kaden had made plenty of Ig’Morruthens since his time here, but they weren’t like me, Alistair, or Tobias. They looked more like the horned gargoyles mortals plastered on their buildings

In March 1942, Deichmann’s work as a manager of Italian contract labor took him to the IG Farben plant at Auschwitz, where many of the Italian workers he had enlisted were working. Even at that early date, Deichmann says, “no one could have approached the IG Farben works without becoming horribly, fearfully aware of what was happening nearby.

IG Farben appears to have been the first company to fully integrate concentration camp labor into modern industrial production, and it eventually became known in Germany as a model enterprise for this new technique. Farben executives even provided advice and training on the large-scale use of forced labor for executives from Volkswagen, Messerschmitt, Heinkel, and other major companies.

Members of the boards of directors at IG Farben, Siemens, Krupp, Volkswagen, and other major companies that desired large numbers of forced laborers personally took on the task of high-level liaison with the SS on labor matters.

By the middle of the war, Germany had become dependent on forced labor in almost every important sector of its economy. Some 19.7 percent of the entire workforce in Germany was made up of forced laborers, later studies found. Most of them were concentrated in industry, where they made up almost a third of the workforce. Almost 40 percent of IG Farben’s workers were forced laborers, including tens of thousands of inmates from Auschwitz and other concentration camps. At the Reich’s vast holding company for aircraft and arms production, the Reichswerke Hermann Goering, no less than 58 percent of the employees were forced laborers.

Se al povero prendi la terra che ama morendo gli resta di farle concime. Per lui niente canti, e per moglie e igli la vita dei servi.

Ig’Morruthens were strong and almost impossible to kill—almost.

Check the IG stories of quality nightlife venues. This will show you the girls that tagged stories there. -          Check the IG tags of those quality nightlife venues, as well as other cool areas in the city (parks, boardwalks, walking streets, restaurants, and gyms). Many high-quality girls will post and tag these places.

patients with initially negative tests will develop positive results if retested six weeks later.) Proof of Lyme disease among these individuals who are negative on the two-tiered approach to testing may be hard to obtain, but occasionally one may get confirmation from other positive tests such as other antibody-based tests (C6 peptide ELISA or an IgG Western blot [even though the ELISA is negative]), a PCR assay for Borrelia DNA, or growth of the organism in culture. Experimental or newer tests (for example, tests of immune complexes or of Borrelia specific proteins) may also prove informative

Dreams are like 5G (5th Gen) network between the brain and sleep. Infact, maybe IG (∞ - Infinity Generation) network connectivity between brain cells and sleep display technical patterns.

Christopher Sommer Tótem: Halcón «Si los mejores del mundo se parten el culo para hacerse fuertes, ¿por qué no lo haces tú?» Christopher Sommer (IG/FB: @GymnasticBodies, gymnasticbodies.com) fue entrenador del Equipo Nacional de Gimnasia Artística de Estados Unidos y es fundador del sistema de entrenamiento GymnasticBodies

After she popped a Xanax and posted an inspirational quote on her IG feed, of course. It would confirm the breakup, but also allow her to control the narrative. Something about growth and loving herself, maybe?

Jason Nemer (IG: @jasonnemer, acroyoga.org) is a cofounder of AcroYoga, which blends the spiritual wisdom of yoga, the loving-kindness of Thai massage, and the dynamic power of acrobatics. Jason was a two-time U.S. Junior National champion in sports acrobatics and represented the U.S. at the World Championships in Beijing in 1991. He performed acrobatics in the opening ceremonies of the 1996 Olympics. AcroYoga now has certified teachers in more than 60 countries and hundreds of thousands of practitioners.

It wasn’t like I was scared of them. Kaden had made plenty of Ig’Morruthens since his time here, but they weren’t like me, Alistair, or Tobias. They looked more like the horned gargoyles mortals plastered on their buildings. I often wondered if they had seen the Ig’Morruthen beasts and copied them in their art, trying to banish their instinctual fear of the monsters. The beasts were powerful and vicious, craving blood and flesh. They could communicate, but saying they could talk was giving them too much credit. They could mimic, but their speech was limited.

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This means that you might not need a pharmacy or an exogenous substance to heal you—you have the power from within to up-regulate the genes that make IgA within a few days. Something as simple as moving into an elevated state of joy, love, inspiration, or gratitude for five to ten minutes a day can produce significant epigenetic changes in your health and body.

I’m planning a margarita chin-dick ring toss margarita party. Everyone welcome! Except Castro. Stay tuned on my IG for details: @brynne_weaver Now someone please help me find my next troll for Gumdrop the limp-dick unicorn. They seem to have gone into hiding and only the best troll will do… All my love, Bxxx

No one owns you.” I felt the Ig’Morruthen that lay beneath my skin wake, and I dropped my hands. My eyes flared, and I could see the embers reflected in the sunglasses atop her head. “He does, and in every way. We can pretend that these last two weeks are real and that we are the perfect sisters who braid each other’s hair, go out for drinks, and paint our nails. But the absolute truth of it is that we are not. We both died centuries ago in that damned desert. Whether you want to admit it to yourself or not, we’re different. I’m different.” My sister didn’t flinch. She wasn’t afraid of me and knew I would never hurt her. “You can’t blame me for wanting you to be happy. I want something normal for you—something besides the bread crumbs he feeds you to keep you in line.

hadn’t started my life as an Ig’Morruthen, but it is what I had become, and my eyes would always give me away. When I was mad, hungry, or anything but mortal, they burned like two fiery embers—one identifier among many that proved I was no longer mortal.

I nodded as his nails pricked my skin. Ig’Morruthens were strong and almost impossible to kill—almost. We all had a weakness, one thing that would destroy us. The trick was trying to figure it out before we ripped you to pieces. I had been decapitated, lost limbs that grew back, and even had my neck snapped, but none of it had killed me. The only thing that had not been destroyed was my heart. So, through the process of elimination, we had deduced that I would die if my heart were removed from my body. My stupid mortal heart was my weakness.

You destroyed Rashearim. That’s why they call you World Ender. It’s not just some weird egotistical name. You obliterated an entire planet with your sword. I saw it.” Liam’s face dropped. He tensed, realizing there were no more secrets between us, no more lies. I knew everything now. “Yes.” “You slaughtered hordes of Ig’Morruthens.” “Yes.” “Is that what you would have done to me in the beginning?” His eyes searched mine, and I knew he would never lie to me. “If it was necessary.

You worry about an abomination soaked in death. How interesting.” “She is not an abomination,” Liam seethed. “She is, and cannot die by normal means. You resurrected nothing.” It was my turn to speak up. “So, I’m not going to be a weird, decaying zombie or anything?” The heads swiveled to the right and then left, as if confused by my question. The floating mass around it expanded slightly before returning to normal. “You are Ig’Morruthen, a creature made for destruction. You are an agent of death, despair, fire, and chaos. The ancient ones before you made worlds shudder, made gods tremble, and Primordials ashamed of their creation. You are a beast of legend, yet you wear a suit of flesh and tissue.

I backed away, feeling the hairs on my arms rise. The Ig’Morruthen in me whipped and coiled, sensing danger and clawing to escape. My every instinct knew he was a threat, and I knew who he was. The God Unir. Imogen and Logan knelt, their heads bowing as he entered. “Father,” Liam said simply, meeting Unir’s gaze.

Mm cwthos os aw cod ath ig—” I say with Ersilio’s hand muffling me.

Neverra’s gaze dropped to the sketch. “She is pretty for a fire-wielding death bitch that tried to kill us all.” “Remember, Ig’Morruthens are smart, calculated, and above all, monsters. A monster is still a monster, no matter what pretty shell it wears.

Is that what your father told you?” Tobias clicked his tongue. “Your family is full of liars, Samkiel. Too bad you won’t be around to figure that out.” Liam squared his shoulders as he glared at Tobias. “It does not matter who or what you are. It will take an army to detain me.” Tobias’s laugh was cold and downright deadly. He stretched his arms out to the sides, squeezing his hands into fists. His talons dug into his palms, drawing fresh blood. He spoke in the ancient tongue of Ig’Morruthens. Blood welled between his fingers and dripped onto the floor. It sizzled, dark smoke swirling as it made contact with the stones. “Well, it’s a good thing, Samkiel,” he said, his voice deep and menacing, “that I have bodies to spare.” The mausoleum shook as the stone absorbed his blood. Liam and I watched in horror as the lids slowly slid off the coffins. Hollow wails and moans filled the crypt, the ground busting open beneath us as the dead rose.

But unbeknownst to the Ig’Morruthens and the traitorous gods, my father and I had sent as many as we could to the nearest livable planet for refuge.

Father. You’re unnerved.” Another stab of his staff, and the floor vibrated as he moved closer. “Unnerved? I would be less unnerved if you did not parade yourself in such a manner. The realms have slowly been devolving into chaos. I need you more focused than ever. The Ig’Morruthens seek power over any realm they can claim, and if they grow in numbers, even we will not be prepared to stop them. I need you to be focused.” My breath left me in a sigh, knowing far too well what followed. “I am focused.” I swayed on my feet before correcting myself. “Did I not cease Namur? I have earned the name World Ender from the realms we have taken back. I deserve a moment of peace, without blood and politics. Are we not supposed to indulge after victorious battles, be amongst our people?” He sneered, shaking his head. “Our people can indulge. You cannot. You will be king. Do you not comprehend that? You have to show your face, not sway upon your feet or dip your cock in any celestial or goddess that shows you a sliver of attention.” He paused, a single hand rubbing his brow. “You have so much potential, my son, yet you squander it.

You are more than enough, Samkiel. You know my visions, what I have seen. I have seen far beyond this place and time. You are the best of us, even if you do not see it now.” I scoffed, mostly to myself, as I rubbed my hand across my forehead. “They will never accept me, no matter how many Ig’Morruthens I slay or worlds I end to save others. My blood is not pure like yours or theirs.” “You are perfect the way you are. Do not worry about them. They will have no choice. You are my heir. My son.” He walked forward, stopping in front of me before placing his hand on my shoulder. My anger dissipated as he said, “My only.” “You force them, and they will retaliate.” I knew they would, just as I knew they would not accept me. I did not want to rule, but alas, my father, my blood, left me no choice. “Words like that bear the semblance of war, Father.” His shoulders lifted so carelessly, a small smirk forming on his lips as if the mere thought were a fever dream. “I have made enemies for less. Old and powerful enemies. I fear no wars.” My gaze met his for a moment, the effects of the savaee wearing off as my reality bored into my brain.

Liam sat up straight and waved away Ethan’s words. “He is wrong. Azrael is dead. He never made it off Rashearim.” Ethan’s brows furrowed. “You must be mistaken.” “I am not. I saw Azrael’s body in tatters after he helped his wife escape. The Ig’Morruthens had overpowered us, and he was ripped to shreds. He was turned to ash before Rashearim fell. How could I ever be mistaken?