“In some, your endings are pleasant. In others, painful. But how curious, that in every one, you change the world together.” I let out an ugly, ragged exhale. The intensity of my relief was matched only by my grief. I looked down at Mische—Mische, whose face held the greatest parts of divinity and mortality. Mische, who was the most extraordinary soul I had ever met. “Of course she does,” I murmured. “She is an event.” “She was no one,” Acaeja said dismissively. “But perhaps that is what makes her remarkable. Such is the glory of fate. It is forged, not born.”
