Listen close, Daughter of the Forgotten, she had warned me. Stop running from who you are. Stop hiding. And stop taking that cursed flameroot powder. Gods—the Queen of Umbros. It had been her in the alley on the day my mother went missing. If that hadn’t happened, would I have given up the flameroot and allowed my magic to manifest? Would I still be standing here as Queen? Did I have her to thank—or despise—for everything that had transpired since that terrible day?
