I couldn’t get much sleep last night. Today’s the day—my fate, my future, it all rests on the next following few moments. Here goes nothing.
Listen, there’s something you need to know about the First Gods…
A few words, a sketch of a face, some silver, and that’s all it takes for someone to die in these wild parts. You know part of my story already, don’t you?
“I miss the music,” he thought. “The women used to sing such wonderful songs. Full of power and beauty.” Only now was Taro beginning to regret his long journey, as the nightly winds chilled his weary bones.
Sweat rolled off his forehead and burst upon the concrete floor as he examined his work. “Finally, a moment of rest,” he thought to himself, and rubbed his aching shoulder.
There’s nothing like exploring the fringes of the galaxy to figure out what you want to do with your life.
This is the stuff of dreams. The drink of gods, the enabler of magic, and the driving force of our civilization, all distilled in small but sturdy glass vials on a moon forty-seven light-years from our home
Nothing makes a forty-seven light-year journey more exciting than an explosion in a backup vessal.
Has it really been 970 years of sleep? To think… Almost a millennium of time that never was. Oh, the dreams I had! I would almost do this trip again, if only for a millennium of vivid dreams.
May the gods have mercy on this child, he thought. In a few moments, he knew the gods cared not for his prayer. The blood was still warm, and refused to freeze. With a solemn face, he returned to the home and made his announcement to the parents: the girl has Iceblood, the blood of the Iceborn.