Mythic The Nine Novels & Stories

My voice was hoarse as I asked her, "Lucy, are you sure you want to divorce me over a drinking-game challenge? This is our ninth divorce. I won't remarry you again. I'll ask you one last time. Do you really want this?" I remembered how we had gotten together. She pursued me first, staging nine elaborated declarations of love that people still talked about on campus. And yet, on the very night we registered our marriage, she'd asked for a divorce. At the time, I had asked why. She had smirked and said, "I humiliated myself declaring my love for you nine times. Even if I divorce you nine times, you can take it. You owe me this!" That was why I endured all those humiliations, telling myself it

"A way out. The Architects are so busy looking at their perfect grids that they’ve forgotten to watch the trash. It’s time we showed them what happens when the trash decides to strike back." ​I looked at my hands. The mercury veins were no longer violet. They were a deep, burning orange. We had found the graveyard of the gods, and it was full of people who knew how to build a fire. ​The Ninth Peak wasn't a ship anymore. It was the spark for a galaxy-sized forge. And the first thing we were going to make was a war.

“We are all that remains of the detachment that departed ahead of the 9th.” Ralta shook his head. “How can that be? Surely you are—” “Quiet Ralta,” the General commanded. “All is as we have said it to be. The 9th is in great danger here. Be that as it may, we still have a mission to carry out. The emperor awaits word of us pushing back the forces of Pictdom.” August dipped deeper in the water and looked toward Porcius. “Tell them what you have discovered.”