Chapter13
#Chapter13
Compassion, much like a terrible family curse, presented itself at the most inconvenient of times.
It struck in a long, elegant arc that tendered something deep within my chest, mincing it down until it became a more compilable beast; it uprooted something, more of an echo of a moment than than a full memory, and ushered it back into being.
Anger and I were old friends. Vengeance and I had made a pact. But misery . . . it had been among my first companions, lost as stronger, more tainted emotions kicked it to the back seat and took control of the wheel.
Ember wasn't Lumen. They may have looked alike. They may have shared the same cherubic face and spoke in the exact same frequency, but that was where the differences ended. Lumen was a bag of dull, unpolished rocks, and Ember was irrelevant. Lumen liked yellow and licking dirt. Ember liked red and picking flowers.