Issue #179
August 06, 2015
The Grace of Turning Back

Of course it was impossible. They were shaping impossibility here: a miracle so great it approached blasphemy. And Kahzakutri was not vandalizing this creation. If anything, She was generous. She gave it a core of Herself. The essence of loss, of grief—the urge to undo.

The Exile of the Eldest Son of the Family Ysanne

I realized I was thinking of my brother's guilt as a matter of 'if,' and rebuked myself. This was what I had joined the Quiet to do, to punish wrongdoing in the City and protect its peace. Family loyalty had no place in the ranks. There was no reason to suspect anyone else.

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Horimachi's own tattoos were from before the war, when black ink was made of soot instead of faery blood.
From the Archives:
And Her Eyes Sewn Shut with Unicorn Hair
“That’s why I’ve never loved my sister. I’ve always known the last thing I’ll ever see is her sewing my eyes shut.”