Chapter 15 · free to read
She had been thinking about it since the guest-cell. Manida's scar had come in a single night, in her nineteenth year, and the court had called it an inheritance.
There was no scar in the photograph. There had never been a scar in the photograph. It had come in a single night, in her twenty-first year, three days after the Mekong took her — and Manida had not been born a keeper either. She had been chosen. And she had run.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.