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I had been taught that symbols had power. I don’t know otherwise how to account for the effect seeing the diamond bug had on me. It was like a promise kept or an answer given. Could the reason be as simple as seeing up against that big red doomsday sky a reflection of what was on my little arm? A meeting of the large and the small was how I visioned it.
And it gave me an idea. The truth was one truth and had been since the first star. We could make new words, but we couldn’t make new truth—or say there was one for some and a different one for others.
It blossomed into me: here was why the Awakening was a lie. It had split the truth. The Godslayer said some were made to live and others to die, but if the world whispered one secret to all, it was this: stay alive. Part of the proof w
