"Psyche's job, everyone's job, was to do the hard things that needed doing, trusting that somehow it would be well. It would not be, the Song reminded her, an easy hope. It was not a lazy summer morning hope. It was the sharp cut of ice, the depths of snow, the frozen night sky. It did not mean - it had never meant - that anyone escaped suffering. It had never meant that Psyche could not lose everything she cherished. But it was hope nonetheless. A hope that promised all evil, no matter how twisted, could and would be straightened back to good."
-Stoneheart
Stories, poetry, and books for traditional writers and readers
Our book is live! This is a dream come true! Here is a book I wrote with my name on it! Thank you, @alana-k-asby making this story more beautiful and joining me on this journey!
