No one can know about the curse in her bloodline. No one can know that she’s lost her magic. No one can know the truth about the boy who holds the missing half of her soul.
What lengths will dream weaver Ali be forced to go to, to protect her love when Morpheus goes rogue?
We always have choice, boireannach glic—no destiny is written. We’re all born with gifts; all we can do is harness them, and walk the path that feels the truest. Stay grounded, stay centred.
Once there was a boy who believed...
I must have drifted off at some point though, because my alarm jolted me awake, and I almost wondered if I'd dreamt the whole thing...
She's eighteen, this girl, a woman really, raised mostly in isolation, taught to run a house as if this one isn't a ruin waiting to fall with a dying family (decreased yet again by a recent death), no fortune and no prospects of which to speak.
A secret bloodline. A stolen magic. A fight for the throne.
In truth, I have no idea what kind of student or wizard I would be without Adraa. I was one of the best because I couldn’t let a girl a year younger than I was and hundreds of miles away win. And maybe I pushed her too. Maybe we would be great together—pushing each other to be better in magic and life.
I am the right choice. The only choice. And I will protect my kingdom.
The pandemonium, the division of the night before, had been quieted by the age-old response, the reminder that our unity as a province, as a city, was stronger if we were united as one under the law and customs of our Code. Their Code. Not mine; I was no longer protected or bound by the Code.