[It's natural to want to survive. Even for Kadoc, who's skirted so close, so many times in his life, to turning his back on that basic human desire—he had wanted to live. If nothing else, he'd wanted to live just long enough to die a death he chose for himself, not the one he'd been dealt.

Some people will understand that, and he's just relieved Medea is one of them. This is easier with her holding his hand, eyes gentle. Maybe someday he'll feel like he can express his gratitude for that properly. But for now—he can only keep going, finally managing to meet her eyes again.]

I was sent to a version of Russia that held the sole surviving humans on the planet after a meteor strike four hundred years ago plunged the planet into an ice age. . . . These humans, under the guidance of Ivan the Terrible, survived by magecraft that combined their human forms with hardier demonic beasts. They became Yaga, half human and half something else entirely, able to withstand the cold but gradually losing their grasp on what it meant to be human. . . . It truly was Hell there they were living in. Brutal cold, almost no resources, under the rule of a despot who'd gained power beyond imagination. There was no hope for that society. But they kept going anyway. They were strong people. I didn't exactly care for them, but I still respect them.

. . . Honestly, when you merged with your familiar that time, it reminded me of what those people had done to survive what ordinary humans couldn't.