It’s just a color, Owein went on as Merritt entered a side door of the building. A bustling kitchen hand nodded to him before hurrying down the connecting corridor. Darkness, I mean. It’s just a part of the world. Part of life. It makes sense to me now. And my darkness . . . that’s a piece of my story, like a chapter in one of your books. I’m not supposed to tear it out. It makes me stronger. It adds to what I’m facing now, and what I’ll face in the future. It’s part of me, just like my legs or my magic or my mind.
