" O corse of the Locked Tomb," you extemporized wildly. "Beloved dead, hear your handmaiden. I loved you with my whole rotten, contemptible heart―I loved you to the exclusion of aught else―let me live long enough to die at your feet."

Then you went under to make war on Hell. "

― Tamsyn Muir , Harrow the Ninth (The Locked Tomb, #2)