“From this moment onward, you are Nina Clarke. Clarke. Nina Harrow has ceased to exist. You were born in Sommerland, not Scurry. Your mother was my sister, and she was an Artisan wood Mason. Her name was Greta Leisel. Your father was Frederick Clarke—a Craftsman from Sommerland. Both are dead.” Her words overlapped. She glanced over her shoulder repeatedly as she spoke. “Repeat it back to me, girl.”
