During all the time I’ve been in Orea, I have been at war with myself. Ripped in two, each form wanting to come out—to dominate and thrive. It was a release for me to switch between skins. To be both Rip and Rot. The first, to be the aggressive fae learning to protect me and mine through muscle and rage. The second, to learn to protect in a different way—politically. Magically. I was able to be the commander and the king. The soldier and the sovereign. I could slake my bloodlust on the battlefield and quench my thirst for control in a throne room. Because of this, I forged the protection of
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