ASHLEEKA STOOD AT HER WINDOW, letting the breeze flow through her eight-year-old hair. She wasn’t tired. She never was. Not really. She just went to bed to seem normal. But she never had dreams. Never. Sometimes she considered exchanging her powers for the ability to dream. Like right then.
But as she looked out the window and saw the moons Trimont and Exelor glowing in the sky and heard the trilling of crickets and the bubbling of the brook that ran around the base of her tree, she remembered what Umala had once said to her: there was no other worthy of what she could do, just as there was no other like Emmaline or Umala herself who was worthy of what they could do. They could not give in to false hopes of a normal life. They’d never have one, anyway.
Especially now that she had Regenerated.
Ashleeka wondered how long the Darkwielder would wait.
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