The tears on my face had dried, leaving streaks of dark, mottled traces. A fire burned in my chest, my blood boiling in my veins.
The surrounding light gradually dimmed, and I felt as if I were trapped in a vast, dark web, peering through layers of silk at the abyss below.
I sat quietly in the attic, my shadow swallowed by the darkness.
Abby and Teal’s voices echoed in my mind, alternating between comforting and haunting.
For ten years, Abby had given me the hope to carry on. She had told me that my parents loved me, and that my exile had been a desperate, forced choice.
For three years, Teal had led me to believe that one day, a golden carriage would traverse the wasteland of Northtown to bring me back to my parents.
The hope and perseverance they had given me constantly battled aga
