There are times in a man"s life when he must face hard truths. He must look into the mirror, past the veneer, past the disdain, and judge himself: what he is, where he is, who he is, and how he got there. That time was upon me. I had come to many difficult realisations over those past short weeks; they had changed me. I had accepted Alba"s death, although deeply regretted it. My having left Linka was the lesser of several unthinkable scenarios, a necessary evil. The Sunyins and the fact that humans, of a form, existed, had been acknowledged even if it still seemed fantastical. But coming to terms with my parents" murder, with so many manipulated falsities, and worse, was beyond my capabilities. Everything I was and everything I knew had formed from their teachings. It beggared the question
