The Healing of Harms The sword hilt dropped from his weary fingers. Tommy hunched forward, his head cradled in his hands, and he wept. “Tybalt,” he whispered, face hidden behind his hands, “Please get up. Oh, please, Tybalt.” When, after an endless time, Thomas had no more tears to shed, he slowly raised his head. He felt nothing inside except an aching, bone-chilling void. With red-rimmed eyes, he stared at the ruined sword, at the tiny, stiff, dead animal and the bloodstains matting its black fur. Nothing happened and nothing continued to happen. Thomas sat there. He had nowhere to go, he had nothing to do, and nothing would ever be worth doing again. Had he saved England? The Knight of Shadows was defeated. But what about all the other monsters he knew lurked around the country, the hollow women, the simulacra in Parliament and other places of power, the teachers marked by the Sign of the Worm?
What do You think about One Bright Star To Guide Them?
