His mother once told him that the Long War was sparked by famine. “Many were enslaved and there was no food, multitudes were dying every day. The decision was simple, die fighting or die in hunger, and people chose war,” she taught him.  So… why was the Superior’s tale so different?

The contradiction stirred something up inside him. Resist, defy, Silence doesn’t have to mean acceptance!

The tea in his bowl had gone cold, but the little boy didn’t care. Nothing this woman could offer him would warm his insides. His people had fought in the Long War. Many had died, killed in the name of order and beauty. There was no order in death. There was no beauty in killing. Not even if the Superior, oldest of the Sisters, mighty keepers of those they called lost boys...

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