The Heart of a Luna
And then my cursed womb couldn’t even do that, produce a child for the stupid fucking Towers.
“Well, then, if we can enter we can kill ‘em, right?” Haldor says jovially. “Problem solved.”
“No, problem not solved,” Noah snaps. “Remember what we had to do the last time this happened? The Towers need to be fed.”
“They’re stone structures, King,” Pria says and daintily picks at her eggs. “Stone doesn’t need to be fed.”
“They’re made of rose quartz,” I say. “And these are not regular crystals. They breathe… like they’re alive.”
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