" And then she knew me.
I saw the knowing arrive, wonderful and terrible. In my memory she has two different faces at once, like the god she named me for: On one face is riotous joy, blazing at me like the sun itself. On the other is deepest mourning, the keening, marrow-deep ache of someone who has looked for something too long and found it too late.
She reached her hand toward me, and I saw her mouth move. Jan-u-ary. "

― Alix E. Harrow , The Ten Thousand Doors of January