“You know that monsters aren’t real, right?” she asked. “I wouldn’t be so sure. What do you think of when you hear the word ‘monster’?” Because Isobel wasn’t raised on Ilvernath’s ridiculous fairy tales, her mind didn’t conjure an image of a dragon or a big bad wolf. It wasn’t even an image that came to mind at all. It was a voice, rasping and sharp. You don’t get to choose the family you’re born into. She winced, instantly feeling guilty at her own thoughts.
