No Weapon Formed Against You Quotes

You think man can destroy the planet? What intoxicating vanity. Let me tell you about our planet. Earth is four-and-a-half-billion-years-old. There's been life on it for nearly that long, 3.8 billion years. Bacteria first; later the first multicellular life, then the first complex creatures in the sea, on the land. Then finally the great sweeping ages of animals, the amphibians, the dinosaurs, at last the mammals, each one enduring millions on millions of years, great dynasties of creatures rising, flourishing, dying away -- all this against a background of continuous and violent upheaval. Mountain ranges thrust up, eroded away, cometary impacts, volcano eruptions, oceans rising and falling, whole continents moving, an endless, constant, violent change, colliding, buckling to make mountains over millions of years. Earth has survived everything in its time. It will certainly survive us. If all the nuclear weapons in the world went off at once and all the plants, all the animals died and the earth was sizzling hot for a hundred thousand years, life would survive, somewhere: under the soil, frozen in Arctic ice. Sooner or later, when the planet was no longer inhospitable, life would spread again. The evolutionary process would begin again. It might take a few billion years for life to regain its present variety. Of course, it would be very different from what it is now, but the earth would survive our folly, only we would not. If the ozone layer gets thinner, ultraviolet radiation sears the earth, so what? Ultraviolet radiation is good for life. It's powerful energy. It promotes mutation, change. Many forms of life will thrive with more UV radiation. Many others will die out. Do you think this is the first time that's happened? Think about oxygen. Necessary for life now, but oxygen is actually a metabolic poison, a corrosive glass, like fluorine. When oxygen was first produced as a waste product by certain plant cells some three billion years ago, it created a crisis for all other life on earth. Those plants were polluting the environment, exhaling a lethal gas. Earth eventually had an atmosphere incompatible with life. Nevertheless, life on earth took care of itself. In the thinking of the human being a hundred years is a long time. A hundred years ago we didn't have cars, airplanes, computers or vaccines. It was a whole different world, but to the earth, a hundred years is nothing. A million years is nothing. This planet lives and breathes on a much vaster scale. We can't imagine its slow and powerful rhythms, and we haven't got the humility to try. We've been residents here for the blink of an eye. If we're gone tomorrow, the earth will not miss us.

A weapon based on Time . . ." mused Viktor Mulciber. "Well, why not? The one force no one knows how to defeat, resist, or reverse. It kills all forms of life sooner or later. With a Time-weapon you could become the most feared person in history." "I'd rather be loved," said Root. Mulciber shrugged. "You're young.

No weapon formed against you will prosper.

No weapon that is formed against me shall prosper, and every tongue which rises against me in judgment I do condemn. This is my heritage as a servant of the Lord, and my righteousness is from You, O Lord of Hosts.

If you need anything, come to me. And if I ain’t got it, we’ll find a way to get it. I don’t like other muthafuckas in my mix. Me and you…we’re one. Ain’t no outsiders in this. Nobody. As long as we’re down for each other, no weapons formed against us shall prosper.

He knew from long experience that a letter sent in fury merely put a weapon into the hands of your enemy. Poison, in preserved form, to be used against you long into the future.

Where you’re going, there will be opposition: critics and people that try to pull you down. The good news is no weapon formed against you will prosper. They can’t stop you.

The Devil is a master of disguise and takes on many forms. He comes to conquer you, steal your joy, kill your spirit, and destroy your faith. When you are doing right, he attacks you from the left but know that God is all powerful and God is in you and that no weapon formed against you shall prosper.

I make decrees over my family every day. I speak blessings over my family every day. I declare things from God’s word over my family every day. Things like,… … As for me and my house we will serve the Lord. (Joshua 24:15) No weapon formed against us shall prosper…. (Isaiah 54:17) He has given His angels charge over us… (Psalms 91:11) Angels listen for God’s word to perform it. And they do. The Bible says Thou shalt also decree a thing and it shall be established unto thee, and light shall shine upon thy ways. (Job 22:28) There is power in your decree and in your agreement with this word of the Lord. If you decree on the authority of the Word that your eyes will open and see clearly, it will come to pass. The Lord is not a man that He should lie, nor the son of man that He should repent. If He said it, will He not do it? (Numbers 23:19)

No weapon formed against you shall prosper

No weapon formed against you shall prosper, and every tongue which rises against you in judgment, you shall condemn.

For anyone who knows Russia, Trump’s aim in the use of the word ‘hoax’ is uncannily familiar,” he said. “In Russia the regime dismisses any criticism as ‘information war,’ thus making any kind of evidence-based debate impossible: All information is just a weapon, a form of manipulation, there is no rational ground on which to have a debate, you are either ‘with us’ or ‘against us.

Over time, and sentence uttered long and loud enough becomes fixed. Becomes a truth. Provided, of course, you can outlast the dissent and silence your opponents. But should you succeed - and remove all challengers - then what remains is, by default, now true. Is it truth in some objective sense? No. But how does one ever achieve an objective point of view? The answer is you don't. It is literally, physically impossible. There are too many variables. Too many fields and formulae to consider. We can try, of course. We can inch closer and closer to a revelation. But we'll never reach it. Not ever . . . And so I have realized, that so long as The Templar exist, they will attempt to bend reality to their will. They recognize there is no such thing as an absolutely truth - or if there is - we are hopelessly underequipped to recognize it. And so in its place, they seek to create their own explanation. It is the guiding principle of their so-named "New World Order"; To reshape existence in their own image. It is not about artifacts. Not about men. These are merely tools. It's about concepts. Clever of them. For how does one wage war against a concept? It is the perfect weapon. It lacks a physical form yet can alter the world around us in numerous, often violent ways. You cannot kill a creed. Even if you kill all of its adherents, destroy all of its writings - these are a reprieve at best. Some one, some day, will rediscover it. Reinvent it. I believe that even we, the Assassins, have simple re-discovered an Order that predates the Old Man himself . . .

All governments, even these precious “democracies,” derive all their power by force. Do something the government doesn’t want, like, say, cross the street against the light, refuse to submit to its authority, and it won’t be long before they’ll use some form of force, usually a weapon and the threat of death or injury, to compel you to comply.

I've spent a life-time attacking religious beliefs and have not wavered from a view of the universe that many would regard as bleak. Namely, that it is a meaningless place devoid of deity. However I'm unwilling simply to repeat the old arguments of the past when, in fact, God is a moving target and is taking all sorts of new shapes and forms. The arguments used against the long bow are not particularly useful when debating nuclear weapons, and the simple arguments against the old model gods are not sufficient when dealing with the likes of Davies et al. For example, the notion that God didn't exist, doesn't exist but may come into existence through the spread of consciousness throughout the universe is too clever to be pooh-poohed along Bertrand Russell lines. And if I had the time I could give you half a dozen other scientific theologies that will need snappier footwork from the atheist of the future.

Asking a writer why they like to write {in the theoretical sense of the question} is like asking a person why they breathe. For me, writing is a natural reflex to the beauty, the events, and the people I see around me. As Anais Nin put it, "We write to taste life twice." I live and then I write. The one transfers to the other, for me, in a gentle, necessary way. As prosaic as it sounds, I believe I process by writing. Part of the way I deal with stressful situations, catty people, or great joy or great trials in my own life is by conjuring it onto paper in some way; a journal entry, a blog post, my writing notebook, or my latest story. While I am a fair conversationalist, my real forte is expressing myself in words on paper. If I leave it all chasing round my head like rabbits in a warren, I'm apt to become a bug-bear to live with and my family would not thank me. Some people need counselors. Some people need long, drawn-out phone-calls with a trusted friend. Some people need to go out for a run. I need to get away to a quiet, lonesome corner--preferably on the front steps at gloaming with the North Star trembling against the darkening blue. I need to set my pen fiercely against the page {for at such moments I must be writing--not typing.} and I need to convert the stress or excitement or happiness into something to be shared with another person. The beauty of the relationship between reading and writing is its give-and-take dynamic. For years I gathered and read every book in the near vicinity and absorbed tale upon tale, story upon story, adventures and sagas and dramas and classics. I fed my fancy, my tastes, and my ideas upon good books and thus those aspects of myself grew up to be none too shabby. When I began to employ my fancy, tastes, and ideas in writing my own books, the dawning of a strange and wonderful idea tinged the horizon of thought with blush-rose colors: If I persisted and worked hard and poured myself into the craft, I could create one of those books. One of the heart-books that foster a love of reading and even writing in another person somewhere. I could have a hand in forming another person's mind. A great responsibility and a great privilege that, and one I would love to be a party to. Books can change a person. I am a firm believer in that. I cannot tell you how many sentiments or noble ideas or parts of my own personality are woven from threads of things I've read over the years. I hoard quotations and shadows of quotations and general impressions of books like a tzar of Russia hoards his icy treasures. They make up a large part of who I am. I think it's worth saying again: books can change a person. For better or for worse. As a writer it's my two-edged gift to be able to slay or heal where I will. It's my responsibility to wield that weapon aright and do only good with my words. Or only purposeful cutting. I am not set against the surgeon's method of butchery--the nicking of a person's spirit, the rubbing in of a salty, stinging salve, and the ultimate healing-over of that wound that makes for a healthier person in the end. It's the bitter herbs that heal the best, so now and again you might be called upon to write something with more cayenne than honey about it. But the end must be good. We cannot let the Light fade from our words.

The Lord’s Prayer Expanded Our Father, Holy Father, Abba Father, in the heavens, Hallowed, holy, sacred be your name. From the rising of the sun, to the going down of the same, The name of the Lord is to be praised. Great is the Lord and greatly to be praised. Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God of hosts, The whole earth is full of your glory. Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God almighty, Who was and is and is to come. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, On earth as it is in heaven. Thy government come, thy politics be done, On earth as it is in heaven. Thy reign and rule come, thy plans and purposes be done, On earth as it is in heaven. May we be an anticipation of the age to come. May we embody the reign of Christ here and now. Give us day by day our daily bread. Provide for the poor among us. As we seek first your kingdom and your justice, May all we need be provided for us. Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us. Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors. Transform us by the Holy Spirit into a forgiving community of forgiven sinners. Lead us not into trouble, trial, tribulation or temptation. Be mindful of our frame, we are but dust, We can only take so much. Lead us out of the wilderness into the promised land that flows with milk and honey, Lead us out of the badlands into resurrection country. Deliver us from evil and the evil one. Save us from Satan, the accuser and adversary. So that no weapon formed against us shall prosper. So that every tongue that rises against us in accusation you will condemn. So that every fiery dart of the wicked one is extinguished by the shield of faith. So that as we submit to you and resist the devil, the devil flees. So that as we draw near to Jesus Christ lifted up, His cross becomes for us the axis of love expressed in forgiveness, That refounds the world; And the devil, who became the false ruler of the fallen world, Is driven out from among us. For thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory, forever. Amen

Because it wasn’t enough to be accompanied by the beast who scared the crap out of every god in Heaven, Xuanzang was assigned a few more traveling companions. The gluttonous pig-man Zhu Baijie. Sha Wujing, the repentant sand demon. And the Dragon Prince of the West Sea, who took the form of a horse for Xuanzang to ride. The five adventurers, thusly gathered, set off on their— “Holy ballsacks!” I yelped. I dropped the book like I’d been bitten. “How far did you get?” Quentin said. He was leaning against the end of the nearest shelf, as casually as if he’d been there the whole time, waiting for this moment. I ignored that he’d snuck up on me again, just this once. There was a bigger issue at play. In the book was an illustration of the group done up in bold lines and bright colors. There was Sun Wukong at the front, dressed in a beggar’s cassock, holding his Ruyi Jingu Bang in one hand and the reins of the Dragon Horse in the other. A scary-looking pig-faced man and a wide-eyed demon monk followed, carrying the luggage. And perched on top of the horse was . . . me. The artist had tried to give Xuanzang delicate, beatific features and ended up with a rather girly face. By whatever coincidence, the drawing of Sun Wukong’s old master could have been a rough caricature of sixteen-year-old Eugenia Lo from Santa Firenza, California. “That’s who you think I am?” I said to Quentin. “That’s who I know you are,” he answered. “My dearest friend. My boon companion. You’ve reincarnated into such a different form, but I’d recognize you anywhere. Your spiritual energies are unmistakable.” “Are you sure? If you’re from a long time ago, maybe your memory’s a little fuzzy.” “The realms beyond Earth exist on a different time scale,” Quentin said. “Only one day among the gods passes for every human year. To me, you haven’t been gone long. Months, not centuries.” “This is just . . . I don’t know.” I took a moment to assemble my words. “You can’t walk up to me and expect me to believe right away that I’m the reincarnation of some legendary monk from a folk tale.” “Wait, what?” Quentin squinted at me in confusion. “I said you can’t expect me to go, ‘okay, I’m Xuanzang,’ just because you tell me so.” Quentin’s mouth opened slowly like the dawning of the sun. His face went from confusion to understanding to horror and then finally to laughter. “mmmmphhhhghAHAHAHAHA!” he roared. He nearly toppled over, trying to hold his sides in. “HAHAHAHA!” “What the hell is so funny?” “You,” Quentin said through his giggles. “You’re not Xuanzang. Xuanzang was meek and mild. A friend to all living things. You think that sounds like you?” It did not. But then again I wasn’t the one trying to make a case here. “Xuanzang was delicate like a chrysanthemum.” Quentin was getting a kick out of this. “You are so tough you snapped the battleaxe of the Mighty Miracle God like a twig. Xuanzang cried over squashing a mosquito. You, on the other hand, have killed more demons than the Catholic Church.” I was starting to get annoyed. “Okay, then who the hell am I supposed to be?” If he thought I was the pig, then this whole deal was off. “You’re my weapon,” he said. “You’re the Ruyi Jingu Bang.” I punched Quentin as hard as I could in the face.

As Psalm 136:5--9 tell us, creation was God’s power expressed in love. By reading and understanding the Bible as a series of love letters to men and women, you begin to recognize the tender and mighty love of God. The Bible is not a rule book for life or a collection of fairy tales; it’s a weapon of mass instruction. It’s a love letter from God to humanity. It’s an introduction to Jesus Christ, who is God in human form. It declares to the world: God is for you, not against you. To me, the Bible is a work of nonfiction broken into three parts: from Genesis to Malachi, it’s about Jesus Christ coming to earth; from Matthew to John, it’s about Jesus’ life on earth; and from Acts to Revelation, it’s about Jesus coming back to earth. It’s all about Jesus and how we can have a relationship with the omnipotent, omnipresent, omniscient, eternal, holy, and righteous Almighty. This relationship is more important than simply joining a church or doing a few good things.

A LITTLE KNOWLEDGE CAN GO A LONG WAY A LOT OF PROFESSIONALS ARE CRACKPOTS A MAN CAN'T KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE A MOTHER A NAME MEANS A LOT JUST BY ITSELF A POSITIVE ATTITUDE MAKES ALL THE DIFFERENCE IN THE WORLD A RELAXED MAN IS NOT NECESSARILY A BETTER MAN A SENSE OF TIMING IS THE MARK OF GENIUS A SINCERE EFFORT IS ALL YOU CAN ASK A SINGLE EVENT CAN HAVE INFINITELY MANY INTERPRETATIONS A SOLID HOME BASE BUILDS A SENSE OF SELF A STRONG SENSE OF DUTY IMPRISONS YOU ABSOLUTE SUBMISSION CAN BE A FORM OF FREEDOM ABSTRACTION IS A TYPE OF DECADENCE ABUSE OF POWER COMES AS NO SURPRISE ACTION CAUSES MORE TROUBLE THAN THOUGHT ALIENATION PRODUCES ECCENTRICS OR REVOLUTIONARIES ALL THINGS ARE DELICATELY INTERCONNECTED AMBITION IS JUST AS DANGEROUS AS COMPLACENCY AMBIVALENCE CAN RUIN YOUR LIFE AN ELITE IS INEVITABLE ANGER OR HATE CAN BE A USEFUL MOTIVATING FORCE ANIMALISM IS PERFECTLY HEALTHY ANY SURPLUS IS IMMORAL ANYTHING IS A LEGITIMATE AREA OF INVESTIGATION ARTIFICIAL DESIRES ARE DESPOILING THE EARTH AT TIMES INACTIVITY IS PREFERABLE TO MINDLESS FUNCTIONING AT TIMES YOUR UNCONSCIOUS IS TRUER THAN YOUR CONSCIOUS MIND AUTOMATION IS DEADLY AWFUL PUNISHMENT AWAITS REALLY BAD PEOPLE BAD INTENTIONS CAN YIELD GOOD RESULTS BEING ALONE WITH YOURSELF IS INCREASINGLY UNPOPULAR BEING HAPPY IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN ANYTHING ELSE BEING JUDGMENTAL IS A SIGN OF LIFE BEING SURE OF YOURSELF MEANS YOU'RE A FOOL BELIEVING IN REBIRTH IS THE SAME AS ADMITTING DEFEAT BOREDOM MAKES YOU DO CRAZY THINGS CALM IS MORE CONDUCIVE TO CREATIVITY THAN IS ANXIETY CATEGORIZING FEAR IS CALMING CHANGE IS VALUABLE WHEN THE OPPRESSED BECOME TYRANTS CHASING THE NEW IS DANGEROUS TO SOCIETY CHILDREN ARE THE HOPE OF THE FUTURE CHILDREN ARE THE MOST CRUEL OF ALL CLASS ACTION IS A NICE IDEA WITH NO SUBSTANCE CLASS STRUCTURE IS AS ARTIFICIAL AS PLASTIC CONFUSING YOURSELF IS A WAY TO STAY HONEST CRIME AGAINST PROPERTY IS RELATIVELY UNIMPORTANT DECADENCE CAN BE AN END IN ITSELF DECENCY IS A RELATIVE THING DEPENDENCE CAN BE A MEAL TICKET DESCRIPTION IS MORE VALUABLE THAN METAPHOR DEVIANTS ARE SACRIFICED TO INCREASE GROUP SOLIDARITY DISGUST IS THE APPROPRIATE RESPONSE TO MOST SITUATIONS DISORGANIZATION IS A KIND OF ANESTHESIA DON'T PLACE TOO MUCH TRUST IN EXPERTS DRAMA OFTEN OBSCURES THE REAL ISSUES DREAMING WHILE AWAKE IS A FRIGHTENING CONTRADICTION DYING AND COMING BACK GIVES YOU CONSIDERABLE PERSPECTIVE DYING SHOULD BE AS EASY AS FALLING OFF A LOG EATING TOO MUCH IS CRIMINAL ELABORATION IS A FORM OF POLLUTION EMOTIONAL RESPONSES ARE AS VALUABLE AS INTELLECTUAL RESPONSES ENJOY YOURSELF BECAUSE YOU CAN'T CHANGE ANYTHING ANYWAY ENSURE THAT YOUR LIFE STAYS IN FLUX EVEN YOUR FAMILY CAN BETRAY YOU EVERY ACHIEVEMENT REQUIRES A SACRIFICE EVERYONE'S WORK IS EQUALLY IMPORTANT EVERYTHING THAT'S INTERESTING IS NEW EXCEPTIONAL PEOPLE DESERVE SPECIAL CONCESSIONS EXPIRING FOR LOVE IS BEAUTIFUL BUT STUPID EXPRESSING ANGER IS NECESSARY EXTREME BEHAVIOR HAS ITS BASIS IN PATHOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY EXTREME SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS LEADS TO PERVERSION FAITHFULNESS IS A SOCIAL NOT A BIOLOGICAL LAW FAKE OR REAL INDIFFERENCE IS A POWERFUL PERSONAL WEAPON FATHERS OFTEN USE TOO MUCH FORCE FEAR IS THE GREATEST INCAPACITATOR FREEDOM IS A LUXURY NOT A NECESSITY GIVING FREE REIN TO YOUR EMOTIONS IS AN HONEST WAY TO LIVE GO ALL OUT IN ROMANCE AND LET THE CHIPS FALL WHERE THEY MAY GOING WITH THE FLOW IS SOOTHING BUT RISKY GOOD DEEDS EVENTUALLY ARE REWARDED GOVERNMENT IS A BURDEN ON THE PEOPLE GRASS ROOTS AGITATION IS THE ONLY HOPE

What you’re saying makes no sense. At least, it doesn’t make sense to lower spatial dimensions as a weapon. In the long run, that’s the sort of attack that would kill the attacker as well as the target. Eventually, the side that initiated attack would also see their own space fall into the two-dimensional abyss they created.” Nothing but silence. After a long while, Cheng Xin called out, “Dr. Guan?” “You’re too … kind-hearted,” Guan Yifan said softly. “I don’t understand—” “There’s a way for the attacker to avoid death. Think about it.” Cheng Xin pondered and then said, “I can’t figure it out.” “I know you can’t. Because you’re too kind. It’s very simple. The attacker must first transform themselves into life forms that can survive in a low-dimensional universe. For instance, a four-dimensional species can transform itself into three-dimensional creatures, or a three-dimensional species can transform itself into two-dimensional life. After the entire civilization has entered a lower dimension, they can initiate a dimensional strike against the enemy without concern for the consequences.” Cheng Xin was silent again. “Are you reminded of anything?” Yifan asked. Cheng Xin was thinking of more than four hundred years ago, when Blue Space and Gravity had stumbled into the four-dimensional fragment. Yifan had been a member of the small expedition that conversed with the Ring. Did you build this four-dimensional fragment? You told me that you came from the sea. Did you build the sea? Are you saying that for you, or at least for your creators, this four-dimensional space is like the sea for us? More like a puddle. The sea has gone dry. Why are so many ships, or tombs, gathered in such a small space? When the sea is drying, the fish have to gather into a puddle. The puddle is also drying, and all the fish are going to disappear. Are all the fish here? The fish responsible for drying the sea are not here. We’re sorry. What you said is really hard to understand. The fish that dried out the sea went onto land before they did this. They moved from one dark forest to another dark forest. “Is it worth it to pay such a price for victory in war?” Cheng Xin asked. She could not imagine how it was possible to live in a world of one fewer dimension. In two-dimensional space, the visible world consisted of a few line segments of different lengths. Could anyone who was born in three-dimensional space willingly live in a thin sheet of paper with no thickness? Living in three dimensions must be equally confining and unimaginable for those born to a four-dimensional world. “It’s better than death,” said Yifan. While

In Isaiah 54:17 the Holy Spirit says, “No weapon that is formed against thee shall prosper; and every tongue that shall rise against you in judgment you shall condemn. This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord, and their righteousness is of me, saith the Lord.” It’s clear in this verse why no weapon that forms against us will prosper. It’s because of the righteousness of the Lord! Christ's righteousness has been imputed unto us by grace through faith. The Holy Spirit calls this our heritage. Praise God! Truly, whom the Son sets free, is free indeed! The enemy cannot condemn you if you are established in Christ’s righteousness.

And the kings are the merchants. And their weapon is money. Money, in Italy, has a different function from what it has in your country, or in mine. Money circulates everywhere, but much of life elsewhere is still dominated and regulated by the bartering of goods, chickens or sheaves of wheat, or a scythe, or a wagon, and money serves only to procure these goods. In the Italian city, on the contrary, you must have noticed that goods serve to procure money. And even priests, bishops, even religious orders have to take money into account. This is why, naturally, rebellion against power takes the form of a call to poverty.

16 Look, I have created the craftsmanwho blows on the charcoal fireand produces a weapon suitable for its task;and I have created the destroyer to cause havoc.17 No weapon formed against you will succeed,and you will refute any accusation Draised against you in court.This is the heritage of the Lord's servants, uand their righteousness is from Me.” v This is the Lord's declaration. Isaiah Come to the Lord 55 “Come, everyone who is thirsty, acome to the waters;and you without money,come, buy, and eat!Come, buy wine and milkwithout money and without cost!2 Why do you spend money on what is not food,and your wages on what does not satisfy?Listen carefully to Me, and eat what is good,and you will enjoy the choicest of foods. A

For a split second, Az thought Madi might tell him to move so he could slide in behind him, but after a moment's hesitation, he stepped into the oval-shaped tub and sat, moving until he was flush against Az, leaning back tentatively, shoulders up around his ears. Az chuckled. “At ease, motek. I simply want your company. I’m not waiting here with a weapon under the bubbles.” Madi relaxed visibly, resting his head against Az’s shoulder. “That’s better.” Az let his hands roam along Madi’s chest and torso. It seemed the best way to appreciate Madi’s form: slick, soapy fingers playing at his nipples, slipping along the ridges of his abdomen, threading through the hair just beneath his navel, stopping just short of his cock before slowly traveling upward again. Madi gave a sigh that sounded almost content. Az nuzzled behind his ear and along the curve of his throat, enjoying the salty tang of Madi’s skin on his lips. The longer Az caressed him, the more tranquil Madi seemed to grow, his chest rising and falling beneath Az’s hands. “Why didn’t you let me answer the question?” he finally asked. “What?” Madi asked, voice husky. “Earlier. Why didn’t you let me answer the question the therapist asked? What I admired about you? Did you think I’d have nothing to say?” Madi hesitated. “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe I don’t want to know. Maybe once it’s out there, there’s no taking it back.” Az threaded wet fingers through Madi’s hair, murmuring, “And if I don’t want to take it back?” Madi took a deep breath, shaking his head. “What is there for men like us? Just this. Fighting. Fucking. Killing. Mistrust. Misunderstandings.” “Is that all this is to you?” Az asked, knowing in his heart that wasn’t how Madi truly saw them, even if it would make things easier for the both of them if he did. Madi was quiet, but his hand caught Az’s wrist, sliding to tangle their fingers together. This gesture spoke the words it seemed Madi could not, causing a warmth to spread through Az that rivaled the bath water. Az spoke before he could stop himself. “The first thing I admired about you was your beauty. You were a sight for sore eyes that night in the bar, and I was shocked you wanted me.” This time, it was Madi who turned his head, nosing under Az’s chin in a barely-there touch. “When I realized why you were there after a bit of shameless snooping, I dismantled your weapon, not because you were the competition, but because I realized after the night we spent together, the only way I’d ever see you again was if I did something to make you angry enough to want to get even.” Madi didn’t answer but squeezed Az’s hand. Az could feel the uptick in his breaths, which told him Madi was listening. “I admire your skill with a weapon, motek, your precision. The way you kill is art. Truly. But you fucked like you killed…from a safe distance, where nobody can harm you. I needed you closer to me. At the core of every stupid decision I’ve made, every backwards plan, it was always just that. I wanted you—the real you—as close as I could get you.” “Why?” Madi asked, voice raw. “Because I knew, even then I think, that I could love you, but I wasn’t sure I could ever break down your walls enough to get you to love me.” “Yet here I am.” Az raised their intertwined fingers to kiss Madi’s palm. “Yes, here you are.

For a split second, Az thought Madi might tell him to move so he could slide in behind him, but after a moment's hesitation, he stepped into the oval-shaped tub and sat, moving until he was flush against Az, leaning back tentatively, shoulders up around his ears. Az chuckled. “At ease, motek. I simply want your company. I’m not waiting here with a weapon under the bubbles.” Madi relaxed visibly, resting his head against Az’s shoulder. “That’s better.” Az let his hands roam along Madi’s chest and torso. It seemed the best way to appreciate Madi’s form: slick, soapy fingers playing at his nipples, slipping along the ridges of his abdomen, threading through the hair just beneath his navel, stopping just short of his cock before slowly traveling upward again. Madi gave a sigh that sounded almost content. Az nuzzled behind his ear and along the curve of his throat, enjoying the salty tang of Madi’s skin on his lips. The longer Az caressed him, the more tranquil Madi seemed to grow, his chest rising and falling beneath Az’s hands. “Why didn’t you let me answer the question?” he finally asked. “What?” Madi asked, voice husky. “Earlier. Why didn’t you let me answer the question the therapist asked? What I admired about you? Did you think I’d have nothing to say?” Madi hesitated. “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe I don’t want to know. Maybe once it’s out there, there’s no taking it back.” Az threaded wet fingers through Madi’s hair, murmuring, “And if I don’t want to take it back?” Madi took a deep breath, shaking his head. “What is there for men like us? Just this. Fighting. Fucking. Killing. Mistrust. Misunderstandings.” “Is that all this is to you?” Az asked, knowing in his heart that wasn’t how Madi truly saw them, even if it would make things easier for the both of them if he did. Madi was quiet, but his hand caught Az’s wrist, sliding to tangle their fingers together. This gesture spoke the words it seemed Madi could not, causing a warmth to spread through Az that rivaled the bath water. Az spoke before he could stop himself. “The first thing I admired about you was your beauty. You were a sight for sore eyes that night in the bar, and I was shocked you wanted me.” This time, it was Madi who turned his head, nosing under Az’s chin in a barely-there touch. “When I realized why you were there after a bit of shameless snooping, I dismantled your weapon, not because you were the competition, but because I realized after the night we spent together, the only way I’d ever see you again was if I did something to make you angry enough to want to get even.” Madi didn’t answer but squeezed Az’s hand. Az could feel the uptick in his breaths, which told him Madi was listening. “I admire your skill with a weapon, motek, your precision. The way you kill is art. Truly. But you fucked like you killed…from a safe distance, where nobody can harm you. I needed you closer to me. At the core of every stupid decision I’ve made, every backwards plan, it was always just that. I wanted you—the real you—as close as I could get you.” “Why?” Madi asked, voice raw. “Because I knew, even then I think, that I could love you, but I wasn’t sure I could ever break down your walls enough to get you to love me.” “Yet here I am.” Az raised their intertwined fingers to kiss Madi’s palm. “Yes, here you are.

The venomous words of evil men may pierce the air, but they will never penetrate the armor of a godly woman's faith. For she stands secure in the shadow of the Almighty, her defense is Jesus, and no weapon formed against her will prosper. Their manipulative lies and accusations will rebound upon their own heads, for the Lord is her refuge and her vindicator. She will not be shaken, for her roots run deep in the love of God, and her hope is anchored in the unshakeable rock of His promises. Isaiah 54:17 - "No weapon formed against you shall prosper, and every tongue which rises against you in judgment you shall condemn. This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord, and their righteousness is from Me," says the Lord.

I’m fairly certain where you got that dagger, Shaselle.” Cannan walked toward me, pushing his cloak from his broad shoulders. “Why don’t you tell me about it?” I swallowed uneasily. “It-it was Papa’s, remember?” “No, it wasn’t. Tell me how you came to have it.” I stared at him, afraid to answer, afraid to remain silent. He considered me, then laid his cloak around my shoulders. It was still warm from his body and enormously comforting. “I don’t intend to punish you, Shaselle. I’m trying to protect you. But I need to know the truth.” With a shaky breath, I confessed, “It was hidden in Papa’s study.” “And were there others?” “Yes. Many.” Cannan absorbed this, nodding his head. “Sit down,” he said, motioning to a stack of hay against the wall. I obeyed without a word, not sure what would happen now. He stood before me, dark, tall and grave, but not threatening. He had promised he would protect me; he wouldn’t hurt me. “You weren’t supposed to find those weapons--no one was. Have you told anyone?” I shook my head, my mouth so dry I wasn’t certain I could form words. “Is it possible anyone saw you with them?” “No, I was alone. It was late at night.” “Did you disturb the rest of the armaments?” “No. I left them in place and again covered the entrance.” “Good.” Cannan noticeably relaxed in light of my answers. Maybe my mistake would not create problems for them, after all. “One last question. Can you keep silent on the issue?” “Of course,” I said, mortified that he might think otherwise. “And can you stay out of it?” The horses snuffed and pawed the ground in the quiet. I sat stupidly, my lips parted, not sure how to answer. Could I forget what I’d discovered and never wonder about it again? No. Cannan crossed his arms, guessing my thoughts. “Then ask me what you want to know and I’ll tell you.” “What?” I blurted, flabbergasted by what he was offering. “I cannot risk you getting hurt, Shaselle, and your curiosity cannot disrupt what we have planned. If giving you information will keep you from disrupting things, I will do so.

No weapon that is formed against thee shall prosper; and every tongue that shall rise against thee in judgment thou shalt condemn.” Isaiah 54:17 THERE is great clatter in the forges and smithies of the enemy. They are making weapons wherewith to smite the saints. They could not even do as much as this if the Lord of saints did not allow them; for he has created the smith that bloweth the coals in the fire. But see how busily they labour! How many swords and spears they fashion! It matters nothing, for on the blade of every weapon you may read this inscription: It shall not prosper.

Within minutes, the other angels followed the sound of the collapsed tunnel and found Mikael’s location. They were able to dislodge enough of the rock and pull his broken body from the rubble. He had been severely crushed. Gabriel held him. “I can bring him back to the surface to heal.” Raphael said, “That leaves five. We can split up and try to surround the mole. He can’t hide here forever.” They heard the sound of a howl. “Dire wolves,” said Uriel. “We can’t chase him here forever.” Dire wolves were vicious, fanged black hounds of hell almost as tall as a man. Raphael said, “He must have bred them down here. There could be dozens.” “Or hundreds,” said Uriel. The angels could kill dozens of the wolves. But hundreds was another matter altogether. Several of them had almost been overwhelmed by a hundred dire wolves in the days of the giant King Arba, while rescuing Abraham and Sarah from the clutches of the Anakim in Kiriath-arba. They were rescued by a hundred archers. But they didn’t have a hundred archers down in this dungeon of dread darkness. “Take Mikael to safety,” said Uriel. “The rest of you draw the wolves back up to the surface.” They looked at Uriel with fear. Gabriel said, “No, Uriel. We can do this together.” Uriel grasped the leather harness of the special weapon strapped to his back. “I must do this alone.” They all knew what it meant. Uriel had the most sensitive senses. He was the best tracker of all of them. Gabriel protested more, “I will not let you.” “You have no choice.” They heard the sound of wolves getting closer. “And I have no time to quibble with you, Gabriel. Leave — all of you. Draw them after you.” Gabriel teared up. What Uriel was going to do was akin to suicide for humans. Raphael said, “He’s right.” They agreed silently. Gabriel went and grasped his friend in a bear hug that he didn’t seem to want to let go. “My brother.” “Stop your pouting, Gabriel. It’s only until the judgment.” Gabriel pulled away with an angry look in his face. It softened, and he said with a smirk, “You will finally outdo me, little friend.” Uriel gave him a dirty look. Little friend. There was still time to tease. “I outdid you a long time ago,” said Uriel with a grin. Gabriel added, “But there is still Armageddon. You don’t know what I might be capable of.” Uriel said, “Go. We’ll have all eternity to debate that.” They turned to leave. But their delay had lost them time. The underworld dire wolves were upon them. Fifty glowing eyes locked on them, approaching slowly, ready to pounce. There was only enough room to fight against one or two wolves at a time through the narrow passages. Gabriel stood at the back, carrying the broken form of Mikael, who was starting to heal, but not able to fight yet. The other four approached the wolves in single file.

No weapon that is formed against you will prosper. This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord, and their vindication is from Me’ declares the Lord.

As he and Beth hit the stairs, he called out to his brothers, “Thanks for having my back once again.” The group stopped and turned to face him. After a beat of silence, they formed a half circle around the foot of the grand staircase, each making a thick fist with his weapon hand. With a great whoop! of a war cry, they went down on their right knee and slammed their heavy knuckles into the mosaic floor. The sound was thunder and bass drums and bomb explosions, ricocheting outward, filling all the rooms of the mansion. Wrath stared at them, seeing their heads bent, their broad backs curled, their powerful arms planted. They had each gone to that meeting prepared to take a bullet for him, and that would ever be true. Behind Tohr’s smaller form, Lassiter, the fallen angel, stood with a straight spine, but he wasn’t cracking any jokes at this reaffirmation of allegiance. Instead, he was back to staring at the damn ceiling. Wrath glanced up at the mural of warriors silhouetted against a blue sky and could see nothing much of the pictures that he’d been told were there. Getting back with the program, he said in the Old Language, “No stronger allies, no greater friends, no better fighters of honor could a king behold than these assembled afore me, mine brothers, mine blood.” A rolling growl of ascent lifted as the warriors got to their feet again, and Wrath nodded to each one of them. He had no more words to offer as his throat had abruptly choked, but they didn’t seem to need anything else. They stared at him with respect and gratitude and purpose, and he accepted their enormous gifts with grave appreciation and resolve. This was the ages-old covenant between king and subjects, the pledges on both sides made with the heart and carried out by the sharp mind and the strong body. “God, I love you guys,” Beth said. There was a lot of deep laughter, and then Hollywood said, “You want us to stab the floor for you again? Fists are for kings, but the queen gets the daggers.” “I wouldn’t want you to take chips out of this beautiful floor. Thank you, though.” “Say the word and it’s nothing but rubble.” Beth laughed. “Be still, my heart.” The Brothers came over and kissed the Saturnine Ruby that rode on her finger, and as each paid his honor, she gave him a gentle stroke of the hair. Except for Zsadist, who she smiled tenderly at. “Excuse us, boys,” Wrath said. “Little quiet time, feel me?” There was a ripple of male approval, which Beth took in stride—and with a blush—and then it was time for some privacy.

Father In the Name of Jesus, I thank you that this is the confidence that I have in you that if I ask anything according to your will you hear me and if you hear me then I know I have the petitions I have desired of you. Father I thank you that no weapon that is formed against me prospers and I condemn every tongue that will rise against me in judgment for this is my heritage as a child of God and my righteousness is of you. Father I thank you that I am the righteousness of God in Christ Jesus. Today I receive anew the abundance of your grace and your gift of righteousness by which I am destined to reign in this life. Today I receive afresh the spirit of wisdom and revelation in the knowledge of you Jesus – In Jesus

No weapon formed against you shall prosper, And every tongue which rises against you in judgment You shall condemn. This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord,

No weapon formed against me shall prosper, for my righteousness is of the Lord. But whatever I do will prosper for I’m like a tree that’s planted by the rivers of water (Isaiah 54:17; Psalms 1:3).

We must become resolute in trusting the promises of God and believing Scriptures like Isaiah 54:17 which promises, “No weapon formed against you shall prosper, and every tongue which rises against you in judgment you shall condemn. This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord, and their righteousness is from Me,” says the Lord.” The next time Satan does something to try to undermine your faith—what will you choose? Will you choose to fall for his deceptive tricks or will you make the conscious decision to THINK YOURSELF HAPPY?

Ma'am I am still a strong believer if my tough Queen HILLARY CLINTON, she was the only technical person who deserve the white-House,Millions across the world thought she could win at all cost but as we know no one is GOD and none can predict with accuracy with trying the Faiths in form of TRYING . Trump is a tough man with reliable and sustainable wealth so I don't doubt his abilities and strategic business tricks by utilizing his technical brains to his advantage at all times ,My queen relaxed big time at the beginning ,and mid-campaigning moments ,she speed up at the last days which led to our Lost . Trump on the other side ,create a very tougher audience attraction and mass dominance with NEGATIVITY and DIVISION , captured the attention of the whole world at the Mid-Campain moments and Relax with Comfort knowing he will be walk into Victory with the stronger Mess he created from the very Beginning . I admire and still think Trump should rate his Brains for playing his Political Game with ultra-Modern BRANDING tricks that made him the most viewed ,followed and the center of attention for the world not just America. I respect such business logic tricks ,cos they productive but Trump should trade with Caution and remember he is just an ordinary creature and flawed just like any other person ,unless our first father and mother were not create the same and Equal . A technical person like him who understands Business should know ,weapons and killings are not part of business ,in business all you requires and constantly has to invest in is your TECHNICAL BRAINS ,always beat your enemies and oppositions with their individual and personal Unique and Ultra Modern Innovations to distinguishes between a Leader and a follower. I am still a tough and firm believer of my queen and I don't even have to think about their Past or what people claims about them cos I understand the reasons why great minds always attract violent and deadly opposition from mediocre minds so I don't judge anyone and can even judge anyone not even myself but watching her back is my Pledge and if a worthless person makes the wrong move towards hurting her ,it's turn will be know who true SNIPERS are and why we have accurate general snipers . Cos a YoungMan claims when that hour arrives can he give all the crew plotting evil against her an accurate shots to hell until we meet there one day

But I say unto you, love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which spitefully use you and persecute you." Good-will produces a great aura of protection about the one who sends it, and 'no weapon that is formed against him shall prosper.' In other words, love and good will destroy the enemies within one's self therefore, onehas no enemies on the external! "There is peace on earth for him who sends goodwill to man!

No weapon formed against you shall prosper, and you will refute every tongue that accuses you. This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord, and their vindication is from Me,” declares the Lord.

That constitutes a chastening reminder for someone like myself, with a bias in favor of the written page and a sour prejudice against mass-market video: a reminder that, although images can be deceptive, they don't stand convicted alone. Writing is just another form of concoction. Words can lie too. You can trust me on this, probably.

Lift your head, prince. Unless it’s easier for you to tell your lies when you’re bowing on your knees.” He jerked his head up until he was looking directly at me, and a dark smirk formed on his lips. “I will do whatever you want me to on my knees, princess. You want me to breathe all the wicked fucking truths to you against your thighs? I will. You want lies? I’ll worship you with my tongue while I tell you I don’t linger over your curves like a man starved. I’ll lie and say that your soft little moans don’t torture me at night when I try to rest. I’ll whisper a lie against your skin and make sure you know that my desire for you isn’t the most dangerous weapon that anyone can use against me.

No weapon formed against you shall prosper; and every tongue which rises against you in judgment you shall condemn. This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord, and their righteousness is from Me, says the Lord.” Isaiah 54:17 (NKJV)

Indeed, terrorism stays terrorism, whether by the evil individuals, organizations, or by the devil-minded states; terrorism is not only with weapons; terrorists also demonstrate that with tongue, writing, and art, which cause significant damage more than other deeds and objects. Therefore, one should learn and understand the differential between the context of that before advocating for the right of the freedom of press and speech. Factually, hurting, insulting, and hate speech in whatever shapes and forms, against a particular minority or a majority' religious, cultural, and social values, endorsing as a right and a concept of freedom show and prove an idiot's idiocy, nothing than that. Never justify your hegemony and self-victimization and immoral practices upon others' values since that spread hatred and terrorism inside and outside the states; consequently, you are responsible and accountable for that, not terrorists.

Countering the Knife The knife attack is very serious, and easily fatal. Avoid a knife confrontation if at all possible. If you must confront the knife wielder, and are able to do so at a distance, draw both the ASP and the neck knife. You can start with Kick and Draw to get the expandable baton into play while keeping the opponent at bay with a low kick. Your basic strategy is to hit the opponent with the ASP from a distance. His kneecap is a good target, because it is hard to defend and if you damage his knee, it will become difficult for him to close in on you. The knife serves as a backup and a deterrent to keep him from rushing in on you, which is the obvious strategy against someone armed with a stick or baton. In close, you can execute Move 2, striking with the ASP at his forearm as you twist your torso. Hit with the empty hand or slash with the knife. The prison-style knife attack, wherein the attacker grabs and smothers with his lead free hand while repeatedly stabbing with the rear hand, is a simple yet deadly attack that is difficult to defend against. The most effective counter to the prison-style knife attack comes from Ray Floro. First of all, assume the existence of a knife. It is too easy to assume that you are in a fistfight and get surprised when you are stabbed. Many people who are cut or stabbed are unaware of the existence of a knife, and may perceive a thrust as a punch. So don't get surprised by a weapon in an opponent's hand –be looking for it. From the High Backhand Guard chop downward at the opponent's forearm, only add the live hand. Grasp the ASP with both hands in staff grip and repeatedly slam the attacker's forearm. The slams are parallel to the ground, forming a very powerful counter to the upward knife thrust. These multiple slams not only serve as a defense, but as an offense, damaging the opponent's weapon arm. The Vertical Strike From the High Backhand Guard, strike vertically, chopping straight down with the ASP. Like the horizontal chop, the left/live hand follows just behind the ASP as you strike, and retreats with it as you quickly retract it back your original start position in the high backhand guard. The vertical strike can be used to hit targets of opportunity, such as a hand or elbow, but it can also be used to defend against a horizontal attack, such as a swing with a bottle, a slash with a knife, or a kick. Don't think of the strike as a block, but as attacking the opponent's striking arm or leg.

A city in Italy is something different from one in my land. . . . It is not only a place to live, it is also a place to decide, the people are always in the square, the city magistrates count far more than the Emperor or the Pope. The cities are like . . . so many kingdoms. . . .” “And the kings are the merchants. And their weapon is money. Money, in Italy, has a different function from what it has in your country, or in mine. Money circulates everywhere, but much of life elsewhere is still dominated and regulated by the bartering of goods, chickens or sheaves of wheat, or a scythe, or a wagon, and money serves only to procure these goods. In the Italian city, on the contrary, you must have noticed that goods serve to procure money. And even priests, bishops, even religious orders have to take money into account. This is why, naturally, rebellion against power takes the form of a call to poverty. The rebels against power are those denied any connection with money, and so every call to poverty provokes great tension and argument, and the whole city, from bishop to magistrate, considers a personal enemy the one who preaches poverty too much.

I suppose that loudmouthed bastard told you more than was necessary.' 'You voted against me,' she said, her cold voice belying the crack in her chest. 'You have done nothing to prove you are able to handle such a terrible power,' Amren said with equal iciness. 'On that barge, you told me as much when you walked away from any attempt at mastering it. I offered to teach you more, and you walked away.' 'I walked away because you chose my sister.' Just as Elain had done. Amren had been her friend, her ally, and yet in the end, it hadn't mattered one bit. She'd picked Feyre. 'I didn't choose anyone, you stupid girl,' Amren snapped. 'I told you that Feyre had requested you and I work together again, and you somehow twist that into me siding with her?' Nesta said nothing. 'I told them to leave you alone for months. I refused to speak about you with them. And then the moment I realised my behaviour was not helping you, that maybe your sister was right, I somehow betrayed you?' Nesta shook. 'You know how I feel about Feyre.' 'Yes, poor Nesta, with a younger sister who loves her so dearly she's willing to do anything to get her help.' Nesta blocked out the memory of Tamlin in his beast form, how she had wanted to rip him limb from limb. She was no better than him, in the end. 'Feyre doesn't have me.' She didn't deserve Feyre's love. Just as Tamlin hadn't. Amren barked out a laugh. 'That you believe Feyre doesn't only proves you're unworthy of your power. Anyone that willingly blind cannot be trusted. You would be a walking nightmare with those weapons.' 'It's different now.' The words rang hollow. Was it any different? Was she any different that she'd been this summer, when she and Amren had fought on the barge, and Amren's utter disappointment in her failure to be anything had surfaced at last? Amren smiled, as if she knew that, too. 'You can train as hard as you want, fuck Cassian as often as you want, but it isn't going to fix what's broken if you don't start reflecting.' 'Don't preach at me.. You-' She pointed at Amren, and could have sworn the female stepped out of the line of fire. Just as Tamlin had done. As if Amren also remembered that the last time Nesta had pointed at an enemy, it had ended with his severed head in her hands. A joyless laugh broke from her. 'You think I'd mark you with a death-promise?' 'You nearly did with Tamlin the other day.' So Cassian had told them all about that, too. 'But I'll say to you again what I said on that barge. I think you have powers that you still do not understand, respect, or control.' 'How dare you assume you know what is best for me?' When Amren didn't answer, Nesta hissed, 'You were my friend.' Amren's teeth flashed. 'Was I? I don't think you know what that word means.' Her chest ached, as if that invisible fist had punched her once again. Steps thudded beyond the shattered door, and she braced for Cassian to come roaring in- But it was Feyre.

Do you feel rejected and ridiculed? Link those emotions to Jesus who was ridiculed by the religious leaders as He hung on the cross. By this simple technique, you begin to form the habit of separating the emotion from the memory. This not only removes the enemy’s weapon against you but also teaches you the value of mental prayer in gaining custody of your thoughts—an essential element of spiritual warfare.

(35) About “One Strike” （一、一つの打と云事） “One strike”13 is the surest way to victory. It cannot be understood without a solid grounding in strategy. Training diligently in “one strike” will lead to the embodiment of the combat mind and you will win in any fight. Training is the key. (36) About “Direct Transmission” （一、直通のくらひと云事） “Direct transmission” is what I convey to he who has mastered the true Way of the School of Two Swords as One. Temper your body so that it becomes [a weapon for] strategy. Study this well. Other details will be conveyed orally. This scroll is a summary of the teachings of my school. To beat people with swords in combat, you must first study the “five external forms” in conjunction with knowing the “five stances” and master the “pathway” of the sword. This way your body will move spontaneously and nimbly. Your mind will perceive the striking rhythms of combat, and the flow of your sword and techniques will be instinctively flawless as you have learned to move unrestrainedly with your body, feet and mind in unison. The principles of strategy will be realized when you defeat one foe or two, and you will come to understand what are strengths and weaknesses in combat. Analyze the content of this scroll article by article as you train and test yourself against various opponents. You will gradually become familiar with the principles of the Way. Be relentless in your study and be patient as you learn the virtue of all phenomena utilizing every opportunity to accumulate actual experience. Engage all and sundry and know their minds. Traverse the thousand-mile road one step at a time. Haste not in your training in the knowledge that this is the warrior’s calling. Seek victory today over the self of yesterday. Tomorrow, conquer your shortcomings and then [build] your strong points. Practice all I have written here, mindful of not veering from the path. Even if you defeat the most daunting of adversaries, if your victories are not in accord with the principles contained within these scrolls, then they cannot be considered true to the Way. Embracing the principles of the Way, you can prevail over dozens of men. With the accretion of wisdom in sword work, you will master the art of combat for individual duels and large-scale strategy for battle. One thousand days of training to forge, ten thousand days of training to refine. Be mindful of this.

The beast plopped into the chair, the wood groaning, and, in a flash of white light, turned into a golden-haired man. I stifled a cry and pushed myself against the panelled wall beside the door, feeling for the molding of the threshold, trying to gauge the distance between me and escape. The beast was not a man, not a lesser faerie. He was one of the High Fae, one of their ruling nobility: beautiful, lethal, and merciless. He was young- or at least what I could see of his face seemed young. His nose, cheeks, and brows were covered by an exquisite golden mask embedded with emeralds shaped like whorls of leaves. Some absurd High Fae fashion, no doubt. It left only his eyes- looking the same as they had in beast form, strong jaw, and mouth for me to see, and the latter tightened into a thin line. 'You should eat something,' he said. Unlike the elegance of his mask, the dark green tunic he wore was rather plain, accented only with a leather baldric across his broad chest. It was more for fighting than style, even though he bore no weapons I could detect. Not just one of the High Fae, but... a warrior, too.

Alright, Captain Stan,” I said as I grabbed a slip of parchment. “Stealth destruction is your primary operative, which means none of my weapons are ideal. Lucky for you, though, I was onto something before that last channeling gem mysteriously killed itself.” Stan made a point of avoiding my gaze as he focused intently on the blank page in front of us, and I snorted as I began sketching out the elemental degree mapping. Then I drew the beginnings of a rune Dragir had helped me balance when I stopped by House Quyn about the rockets, and when I finished the last line, I shifted the paper to present it to Stan. “This is an altered form of the fireball rune I’ve been using for the 1911s,” I explained. “According to Dragir, this seventeenth degree will counter the flash of the flames, so while they’ll still be burning, they won’t give off a blaze. I have no idea how that’s supposed to work, but we’ll have to see when we do our first trial run. This line that intersects both the sixty-fourth and eleventh degrees is the silencing method we’re going with. Ideally, not even a crackle will give you away. Initially, I was gonna make you a fun little flamethrower, but--” Stan nodded vigorously as he rubbed his hands together, and I sent him an apologetic smirk. “I don’t think it’s gonna work, though,” I continued, and the little metal man deflated. “I know, but your intelligence last night got me thinking, and despite how powerful this rune will be, it doesn’t change the fact that tiny elemental degree lines tend to be less powerful. Using a weapon your size, you could be standing there all day trying to burn up one engraving with an exterior flame attack. Now that we know you’re up against foot-tall defensive runes, though, I’ve decided we need to pack a bigger punch straight into your target without running out the clock. Ideally, these burns should be able to carry on with the same strength while Solana books it to the next target, and one jet of enchanted flames doesn’t accomplish that.” Stan could see the logic, and I could tell he was trying not to look too bummed out about the flamethrower. “I think you’ll like our alternative option, though,” I assured him, “because I already have a highly effective way of achieving our goal, and if this balance of silencing elements works as it should, then it logically follows that its properties would transfer to whatever it’s being channeled through. For example, a bullet.” Now, Stan slowly looked up at me, and I sent him an evil grin. “That’s right, buddy,” I confirmed. “It’s miniature gun time.” The little metal man shot to his feet, and the way he exalted like a maniac with his arms out wide and his head thrown back made me wonder if this was his version of a villainous laugh. Then he started gunning down every scrap of metal in the shop with his invisible guns, and I briefly questioned if I was making a poor decision.

What are these? Every serial killer has their own customized kill kits based on their unique MOs, the tools change gradually as the artists honing their skills and their creations mature towards perfection. I've seen quite a few during my time, matter of fact, some of the best ones ever crafted. You mean you collect these? They are murder weapons? Sure, unsolved murder weapons, all well used and maintained but they are out of commission now. How did you even get these? Well, they were given. Their past owners collected trophies in one form or another and I collected mine. Given? By real serial killers? Uhm, against their will.

Lord Jesus, thank You for loving me so unconditionally. I stand on Your unfailing promise that no weapon of sickness formed against me shall prosper. Thank You that nothing the enemy brings against me, whether it is sickness, fear, or any kind of oppression, has power over my life. My eyes are on You, Jesus, and I will keep declaring and resting in Your finished work. Amen.

Isaiah 54:17—Because no weapon formed against you can prosper • Mark 11:23—Because you can move mountains • Luke 10:19—Because you have authority over all the power of your enemy • John 14:12—Because you will do works greater than those of Christ • Romans 8:37—Because you are more than a conqueror • Romans 16:20—Because your enemy is beneath your feet • 1 Corinthians 15:57—Because you are a victor and not a victim • 2 Corinthians 5:21—Because you are the righteousness of Christ • Ephesians 6:16—Because you are able to extinguish all the fiery darts from the enemy • Philippians 4:19—Because your God shall supply everything you need • Colossians 2:10—Because you are the head and not the tail • Hebrews 4:16—Because you can come boldly before the throne of God • 1 John 2:27—Because you have an anointing and you know all things • 1 John 4:4—Because the One who is in you is greater than the enemy We’ve been given authority by God Himself. And as we come under His subjection and make ourselves interdependent with Him, we have all the authority of heaven and Earth for the fulfillment of His will to flow into this realm. Praise God, we have His authority to heal! Let’s use it. 6 FAITH FOR

The thing about power is, EVERYONE has power in some form or another. How, why, where, and with (or against) whom you use your power is what sets you apart from others. Powerful people act strategically to reach a meaningful, beneficial goal; an outcome that serves the greater good. A lot of people *with* power (there is a difference) act to keep you from reaching goals. They are self-serving and insecure; they overcompensate by wielding power to mask weaknesses. Someone who weaponizes power has little understanding of how the influence works. Ultimately, how you choose to use (or abuse) power, is completely your choice and a reflection of your character.

Dear Heavenly Father, I thank You that You are the God of the breakthrough. Thank You that no matter what it is, my health, my finances, my relationships or my state of mind, You can break through any spiritual obstacle holding me from Your best for me. Thank You that no weapon formed against me will succeed. Thank You that You are my defender against the enemy in every form. Thank You that the victory has already been sealed for me through You, in Jesus name, amen.

The heavy hood concealed the stranger’s face in shadow, but Aelin glimpsed ivory skin, dark hair, and fine velvet gloves reaching into her cloak—for a weapon? “Start explaining,” Aelin said, leaning against the door frame, “or you’re rat meat.” The woman stepped back into the rain—not back, exactly, but toward the carriage, where Aelin noted the small form of a child waiting inside. Cowering. The woman said, “I came to warn you,” and pulled back her hood just enough to reveal her face. Large, slightly uptilted green eyes, sensuous lips, sharp cheekbones, and a pert nose combined to create a rare, staggering beauty that caused men to lose all common sense. Aelin stepped under the narrow awning and drawled, “As far as memory serves me, Lysandra, I warned you that if I ever saw you again, I’d kill you.

Glossary Agni: God of fire Agnipariksha: A trial by fire Angaharas: Movement of limbs or steps in a dance Ankush: Hook-shaped prods used to control elephants Annapurna: The Hindu Goddess of food, nourishment and plenty; also believed to be a form of Goddess Parvati Anshan: Hunger. It also denotes voluntary fasting. In this book, Anshan is the capital of the kingdom of Elam Apsara: Celestial maidens from the court of the Lord of the Heavens – Indra; akin to Zeus/Jupiter Arya: Sir Ashwamedh yagna: Literally, the Horse sacrifice. In ancient times, an ambitious ruler, who wished to expand his territories and display his military prowess, would release a sacrificial horse to roam freely through the length and breadth of any kingdom in India. If any king stopped/captured the horse, the ruler’s army would declare war against the challenger, defeat the king and annexe that territory. If an opposing king did not stop the horse, the kingdom would become a vassal of the former Asura: Demon Ayuralay: Hospital Ayurvedic: Derived from Ayurved, an ancient Indian form of medicine Ayushman bhav: May you have a long life Baba: Father Bhang: Traditional intoxicant in India; milk mixed with marijuana Bhiksha: Alms or donations Bhojan graham: Dining room Brahmacharya: The vow of celibacy Brahmastra: Literally, the weapon of Brahma; spoken of in ancient Hindu scriptures. Many experts claim that the description of a Brahmastra and its effects are eerily similar to that of a nuclear weapon. I have assumed this to be true in the context of my book Branga: The ancient name for modern West Bengal, Assam and Bangladesh. Term coined from the conjoint of the two rivers of this land: Brahmaputra and Ganga Brangaridai: Literally, the heart of Branga. The capital of the kingdom of Branga Chandravanshi: Descendants of the moon Chaturanga: Ancient Indian game that evolved into the modern game of chess Chillum: Clay pipe, usually used to smoke marijuana Choti: Braid Construction of Devagiri royal court platform: The description in the book of the court platform is a possible explanation for the mysterious multiple-column buildings made of baked brick discovered at Indus Valley sites, usually next to the public baths, which many historians suppose could have been granaries Dada: Elder brother

Talasyn suddenly wanted nothing more than to assure Alaric of her presence. She sank fully against his form, holding him down with her weight, burying her face in the side of his neck in a chaste imitation of what he had done to her once, in another bed. “I’m here,” she vowed into his smooth, overheated skin. “I’m not going anywhere.” A sound between a groan and a hitch of breath caught in his throat. The hand on the small of her back rubbed compulsively, tracing the notches of her spine, and his arm tightened around her. His other hand tangled in her hair. “I couldn’t kill that rebel.” It was a choked, bewildered rumble in her ear. “One word from you and I let my guard down. I couldn’t kill you, either, all those times before … What am I, if I’m not a weapon? What have you done to me?