The Black Mage Quotes

The people that tell you what you want to hear are the most dangerous enemies you'll ever meet.

Inexperience can be overcome, ignorance can be enlightened, but prejudice will destroy you.

You are human and mortal; we are the sum of our weak moments and our strong.

You should never trust a wolf in sheep's clothing. Because the only thing the wolf will ever want to do is break you.

Well, I certainly wouldn't give [advice] to the girl that has tried to get me tossed out of this place not once but twice -oh, and let's not forget your most inglorious moment, when you TRIED TO LIGHT ME ON FIRE.

You will thank me one day for not filling your head with false compliments. Adversity teaches one more than flattery ever will.

People make mistakes all the time – some of us just are in more of a position to leave an impact when we do.

I wonder if you have ever given someone a compliment that wasn't a backhanded insult. I prefer not to, it gives people an unsettling impression of self-importance.

Well done, Darren!” Master Byron was full of praise for the prince. “What did you use to cast it?” Darren’s eyes found mine. “Something I don’t regret.

I cringed at her entirely accurate summary of the kiss. "Look, it‘s not a big deal. I think it was curiosity more than anything." "Curiosity? Like you were wondering what his tonsils tasted like?

Believe it or not, there are plenty of ways to satisfy your need for blood without harming anyone." I raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, but where's the fun in that?

I don’t need another ‘adversity builds character’ speech, Darren. That man is a chauvinistic pig. Where’s your adversity?” Darren raised a brow. “I’m looking at it.

That somehow, this insufferable girl would become the one person I am forever, hopelessly, madly drawn to against my will and possibly even my better judgment.

I was tired of my traitorous heart wanting things that were taken. Or, more importantly, people that I didn’t want to want.

You, you are a cockroach. No matter how many times we tried to get rid of you, you kept finding a way to scuttle your way back. And as much as I don’t like you, well, you are persistent. And even I can admire you that.

He was a prince. He was fickle. He was rude. He was arrogant. I knew better. I was lowborn. He was WRONG. I didn't even like him.

You don't become the best if you aren't willing to stick your hand in the fire.

I would join Combat or die trying... A fine choice of words. What had been meant as a melodramatic proclamation was now to be my intended irony.

You are not exactly my first pick either.

We couldn’t be friends. We couldn’t be enemies. So what were we?

No more is your master a god, Nobility, but he wants offerings from all. When Black God claims us, who will be punished for giving worship and power to a false god? The prince? Or Banjiku?

The worst thing wealth does is give those that have it a false sense of security.

That’s the thing about enemies. You never know who they could end up being.

Adversity teaches one more than flattery ever will.

So how did you do it? What makes the cold-hearted princeling mortal like the rest of us?

I’m not that pitiful little girl you bullied last year.

Darren, Prince Darren, the sometimes-bane-of-my-existence, had put faith in a future that even I had never bothered to foresee.

Sight can only invoke fear, not pain.

Someday, Ry, you are going to realize who Darren really is. He’s a prince, and he’s only going to break your heart.

Wait,” he said, pulling me to a stop when I tried to march off toward my destiny. “Is there something you want to tell me?” I looked at him, trying to think of anything I’d done recently that I needed to admit to. When nothing came to mind other than the usual, I shook my head. “Not really. Why?” He reached out and touched my leather jacket. “Is that a bullet hole?” Freaking great.

Why is it forked?

The girl clung to the boy so she could chase away her dark. He was light, and she was fading. She was drowning, and she just couldn’t stop.

Perhaps the gods will surprise us and it will be neither.” “A true tragedy.” “Of epic proportions.” “Two longstanding rivals.” “And only one robe to bear.” “Who will win?” Darren’s tone was wry. “The handsome prince?” I grinned. “Or his valiant betrothed?

I'd seen fire when he touched me, and he had made me want to burn.

He scrambled to grab a hose and pointed it at us. A pathetic stream of water trickled out. What are you going to do? Giguhl said. Moisten us?

Anything for Byron’s least favorite apprentice. It’s the least I can do since you took over my torch.

All of sudden I cared what someone thought of me. Because we are friends. And making you miserable and angry makes me miserable and angry. I don’t want to be the person to make you mad or cry, Ryiah. I want to make you laugh. I want you to make me laugh, because gods know you are the only one who can. So, yes, I am sorry, I am sorry because even if I was right, I was also wrong. And I’d rather lose a silly battle than your friendship.

I told you not to trust a wolf,” he continued. His words dripped like honeyed venom. “Because it would only ever want to break you.” Darren let out a small, harsh laugh. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? I’m the wolf, Ryiah. I guess what I really should have told you was to never trust a prince, but that’s not quite as memorable.

And they told me to keep watch over a ‘lady.’” I couldn’t help but smirk. A lady. I lunged and defeated her guard. I was a war mage.

I'm not sure exactly how...but instead of darkness I saw light.

It's an easy thing to want someone, it's another to love them.

You can be a great man and still be a fool. Many of our country’s leaders can attest to that. Were they still living.

My apprenticeship is more important than strangling Master Byron. I repeated the motto over and over again. If I said it enough times it would become true, or so I hoped.

Because a person couldn't ever be good and evil at once. Little girl, don't you know? The world is made up of shades of grey.

just because a mage wears the black robes does not make him evil.

You are… You are possibly the one good thing about this place.

I wonder if you have ever given someone a compliment that wasn't a backhanded insult.” Darren’s grasp on the handle stilled, and he glanced back at me, eyes dancing amidst the surrounding shadows. “I prefer not to, it gives people an unsettling impression of self-importance.

My mouth fell open. I wasn‘t used to receiving practical advice from Giguhl. But the weird thing? He was totally right. ―When‘d you become so insightful? He smiled wickedly. ―Lady, I piss insight.

The truth is told in anger, not regret, love.

Darren wasn’t darkness, and I wasn’t his light.

Loyalty is never built upon honor, brother. It is built upon blood.

“Darren wasn’t darkness, and I wasn’t his light. I needed to show him he was fire. My fire. Something filled with light. Something good. Something just like my but wrapped up so tightly in his own barrier of darkness it could burn. Unless you knew how to unravel him. Pressing my lips to his I shut my eyes and channelled my one single promise. I will never give up on you.”

Three. I had just made my first, second, and third kill. Before I had even obtained my mage’s robes. I bent over and vomited into the grass. There was no pride, no justice, just the appalling sense that I had lost my innocence. That I was a monster.

I know exactly who you are.” I took a step forward, and another, until I was standing right in front of him. Then my words turned to ice. “You are the selfish, spineless son of a king who is too afraid to be his own man. You would rather hide behind your status than fight for something that could actually mean something.” There, that felt good. “And it’s a shame, really it is, because, according to you, I was the one true friend you had.

There are no excuses,” he said at last. “But there are reasons. Reasons why we are what we are. Reasons why we do not have to stay that way.

If he chooses combat I'll wipe that arrogant sneer off his face the first chance I get.

Ryiah.” Darren suddenly dropped my gaze, looking anywhere but my face. “If things were… If they were different-

Recklessness had a price. Always.

Isn't the best bit of truth always woven in with a lie?

They are brothers,” Benny repeated softly. “That is a bond you cannot break.

In his experience, true leaders seldom had or needed flamboyant titles.

Pain will come and go, and you need to learn to push past it. If you are overwhelmed you won’t be able to do what needs to be done.

Our history told of kings that smiled and kings that conquered. He was the latter.

Well, future apprentice or not, no one is going to sway me but me.

He kept me up against the wall, kissing me like he couldn't fight any longer. Like he was me, fighting himself and losing to a fervor that would burn him alive.

I wanted to dance. I wanted to be swept up in the long desert night, sending a farewell to the fallen and embracing the living.

For the life of him, he couldn’t figure why these East Enders called themselves black. He kept looking and looking, and the colors he found were gingersnap and light fudge and dark fudge and acorn and butter rum and cinnamon and burnt orange. But never licorice, which, to him, was real black.

The girl wouldn’t last the year. Girls like her were soft and easy to break. Lowborns always wanted glory until they realized the hard work it entailed. Darren had worked hard for everything, and a girl who tried to take that away? Well, she wasn’t worth very much.

Do you know the difference between a nation of merchants and a nation of warriors?” I followed through without waiting for a reply. “Only one of them is prepared to fall on its blade. King Horrace might promise you the world but in the end you will reap the greater loss.

I’m not like you. I’ve never cared about keeping relationships or sparing people’s feelings. All I’ve ever cared about is power: how to get it, and how to keep it. I told you as much when we met.

He was a prince. There was no hope in saying yes to the boy with the garnet eyes who left me reckless and confused at every turn. There was no future with him. None. Darren had duty. To the Crown. Gods only knew Priscilla and Blayne had spent enough time reminding me of that.

The what?" "Lone Wolves." He turned to show me the back of his raggedy jacket. Sure enough, a snarling wolf face stared back at me from the leather. "Wait a second," I said. "Isn't it supposed to be 'Lone Wolf' as in, you know, one? If there's more than one, then it kind of defeats the purpose of being 'lone', doesn't it?" The leader squinted hard, as if trying to follow my logic and getting lost.

You can't avoid them forever, Ry. You have to make a decision soon. It isn't fair what you are doing to either of them. I know. I'm just afraid of making the wrong one. You aren't afraid of making the wrong one, Ry, it's the fact that you want to make the wrong one.

Sympathy can be addictive and can kill strong men as surely as a diet of nothing but sugar.

This wasn’t supposed to be how our story went. In fairy tales, the prince saved the girl. In mine, the princess destroyed him.

I had trained my whole life as a warrior. But in that moment I was the damsel-in-distress.

I don't want to choose him. I know a future with him would never be what I want it to be.

Warriors dealt with pain every day, and now that the worst of mine was gone, I was determined to do the same.

Cheer is for fools with idle minds. I am neither a fool nor idle.

People make mistakes all the time –some of us just are in more of a position to leave an impact when we do.” Impact. Influence. Somehow along the way I had joined the circle of people whose actions dictated change, and it scared me how easy it would be to make the wrong one.

Nine times out of ten a knight dies not because of a direct wound, but minor ones that amass over time. The smart enemies don't strike to kill. They just wait for you to do the work for them.

It wasn't always the easiest conversation, having someone else point out your flaws, but it was a necessary evil if we wanted to improve. Better to hear truth, a certain someone had said, than false flattery.

I respect you, Ryiah. I told you last year you were the one good thing about the Academy and I meant it. You aren’t like anyone else here, or any person I’ve ever met. You’ve overcome so much and yet at the end of it you are still kind. You still care.” “I don’t want to be the person to make you mad or cry, Ryiah. I want to make you laugh. I want you to make me laugh, because gods know you are the only one who can. So, yes, I am sorry, I am sorry because even if I was right, I was also wrong. And I’d rather lose a silly battle than your friendship.

Maniac kept trying, but he still couldn’t see it, this color business. He didn’t figure he was white any more than the East Enders were black. He looked himself over pretty hard and came up with at least seven different shades and colors right on his own skin, not one of them being what he would call white (except for his eyeballs, which weren’t any whiter than the eyeballs of the kids in the East End).

I gave my all... for him. I only hoped it was enough

This was why people left the Academy. Eloise and Isaac took away our brains, Piers broke our bodies, and Cedric took what little magic we had and destroyed it.

So, what do you think? Better than four years with Byron?” “Are you kidding?” I kept a straight face. “Those were the best days of life.

It had been an assault of everything wrong and right, right and wrong, wrong and right.

Because wrapped up in conceit the size of Jerar was my Darren. Somewhere. Deep, deep down. And that part I loved. With every bit of my being. I just vehemently hated the rest.

Love Darren? Of course not. Love is for fools not smart enough to see the path in front of them. That’s the difference between you and I, Ryiah. I see the truth and accept Darren for what he is. You just see what you want to see. It’s why I will wear the crown and bear his children while you are left wondering why you were never good enough.

I never got a chance to ask,” he said quietly, “how you were faring. After the battle.” “Are you asking me now?” “I am.” “I’m fine.” I couldn’t think of what else to say. Anything else felt like a betrayal. “I’m glad.

He was a true English butler, just like his father before him, and his grandfather before that. Three generations; bred and butlered.

Why would one wish to live out an eternity remembering everything they lost?

If I weren't struggling, if I weren't keeled over in agony, if my muscles weren't screaming at the end of a long day...then I wasn't trying hard enough.

The irony was that my real enemy had been there all along right in front of me. Smiling crookedly and convincing me we were friends. Trying to seduce me for the thrill of the chase. Chastising me for not trusting him that first year in the tower stairs at the Academy… Telling me he loved me. And then tossing me aside the second I jeopardized his dreams. I wasn’t what he had wanted all these years. I’d merely been a diversion in his pursuit of the crown. I never should have trusted a prince.

Dark, shadowy figures moved closer, circling. Torel pulled his two seyani longswords free of their scabbards. "Come, then!" He shouted. "Come dance with the tairen, if you dare! Miora felah ti' Feyreisa! Joy to the Feyreisa! And death to you all!" And he became a whirling blur of motion - black leather, shining steel, red blood - spinning in the moonlight, delivering death to all he touched until he moved no more.

No matter what tears were shed or what trials were faced, some things would stay the same. There would always be day and night, stars and sky, hope and rest. There would always be love, always compassion, and there would always be Skandranon. And forever, in the hearts of all the Clans, there would be Urtho—and for his memory, a moment of silence.

his eyes were wired and bugged out.  This was a terrorist mage.  My heart quickened. Their latest trick was using themselves as human bombs to release their black magic, unleashing an explosion of deadly pestilence. If I didn’t stop him, every Oligarch and council member in the city of Mysterium would be annihilated.  I slipped away from Nils. “Song’s not over,” he called out. I ignored him and

Am I going to see you again?” she whispered. “Someday.” I hoped. “I don’t want this to be the end.” I dropped my cheek to the top of her head, wishing we had more time and knowing we didn’t. Our futures followed two different paths. Paths that ran in two different directions. Our time at their intersection was over. “Tell me something. Can you look into the future and see us together?” I wanted her answer to be yes. I wanted her to paint me a picture of a future where Sofia Kendrick and Dakota Magee stayed together. Because for all the hours I’d spent trying, I sure as hell couldn’t imagine one. We were a void. An empty, black box. Her frame slumped. “No. Honestly, I’ve tried. But I just can’t see it.” “Me neither.” She sniffled, her chin quivering against my chest. “I hate this.” “So do I.

I run my finger along the textured silk. “It’s so beautiful.” “Salishen silk,” Mage Florel says reverently. “From the Salishen Isles. They’re master weavers, the Salish. True artists. And all of their embroidery is as exquisite as this.” I glance up at her. “Do you think you could use this?” “Of course, Mage Gardner,” she replies, obviously thrilled by my choice. Fallon’s hand comes down on the fabric. “You can’t use this,” she says, her tone hard. I blink up at her in resentful surprise. “Why?” “Because,” she replies, her voice syrupy with condescension, “this is what my dress is being made of.” “Ah, what a pity,” Mage Florel sighs. She pats my shoulder sympathetically. “I’ve others, Mage Gardner, don’t you fret. We’ll find something just as lovely for you...” Heart racing, I put my own hand down firmly on the fabric sample, right next to Fallon’s. I meet Fallon’s stare and hold it. “No. I want this one.” Everyone gapes at me. Fallon leans in a fraction and bares her teeth. “You can’t have it.” I try to ignore the slight trembling of my hand. “Oh, come now, Fallon,” I say as I gesture at the fabric around us, mimicking her sneering tone. “It’s all black. And I’m sure the cut will be different.” I look over at Mage Florel, whose eyes are as wide as everyone else’s. “Can you make sure it’s very different from hers?” Fallon spits out a sound of contempt. “My dress isn’t being made here. I have my own dressmaker.” “Well, then,” I tell her. “That simplifies things.” I turn to Mage Florel. “Can you make it for me in time? With this fabric?” Mage Florel gives me an appraising look, her eyes darting toward Fallon as if weighing the options. She lifts her chin. “Why, yes, Mage Gardner. I think I can.” She smiles coldly at Fallon. “Why don’t you tell me what your dress is like, dear? I’ll make sure it’s quite different.