About the Author
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I wasn't highborn. Or if I was, whoever sired me disowned me, dumping me in the shadows at the edge of the world like I was worthless. The thought stoked the ember of rage burning always within me, a bright kernel hard and polished as a ruby.
When I opened my hands illusions spilled out, beautiful and terrible and impossible to control.
Trees of kembric, draped in garlands of jewels.
Bouquets of skyflowers.
Bracelets of stars.
I wasn't worthless. I wasn't an aberration, a freak, a monster. I was a legacy.
I ran away from the Temple of the Scion because I knew I deserved better than merely being tolerated. Much as I'd tried to follow in their footsteps when I was young, I had never belonged with the Sisters, and they had certainly never loved me. They had taught me many things: that to laugh too loudly in the presence of the Scion was a sin, and that the bruises and scrapes inflicted by the ignorant village kids were my own fault, and that dreaming of anything outside the dank walls of the temple was too dangerous to be allowed.
They had taught me that being alive was not the same thing as living.
They had tried to stop me from leaving, when I finally fled. They had burned the Imperial Insignia and tried to lock me in my room, panic churning their studied tranquility into chaos. But I'd escaped. Jagged satisfaction tinged with guilt burned through me when I remembered how I'd repaid a lifetime of their indifference.
But I deserved the chance to find where I belonged. To find a world where my gift my legacy did not frighten superstitious Sisters or enrage cruel children. To find a world forged in sunlight and honed on dreams, as perilous and intoxicating as the colors spilling jewel-bright from my fingertips.