world will be lost right along with me. All because I’ve been too afraid to do what needs to be done. I remember now what my mother did that night when I was barely five years old, and I know how to fix it. In this world, power requires sacrifice, Pan had once told me. The pain of his Queen carving into his skin had given him tremendous power. But my mother had done the opposite. Pain. Sacrifice. Power. The words come together to form a terrible truth. When we’d come home that night, my mom had started packing, but not before she took me into the kitchen and held ice to my arm. Not before she
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