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Whether my grandmother decrees it so or not,
you are my people, and always will be. But I
will fly against you, if need be, to ensure that
there is a future for those who cannot fight for
it themselves. Too long have we preyed on the
weak, relished doing so. It is time that we
became better than our foremothers.” The
words she had given the Thirteen months ago.
“There is a better world out there,” she said
again. “And I will fight for it.” She turned
Abraxos away, toward the plunge behind
them. “Will you?”
Manon nodded to Petrah. Eyes bright, the
Heir only nodded back. They would be
permitted to leave as they had arrived:
unharmed.
So Manon nudged Abraxos, and he leaped
into the sky, the Thirteen following suit.
Not a child of war.
But of peace.