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You never know what is under your feet until you look deeper, Sylah thought. And it seems like you never know what’s in front of you, until you look within.
Sylah flinched as the word hit her in the chest. She realized for the first time that it was true. She was an invader; every red-blooded and blue-blooded citizen was. Even if it was her ancestors who had done the crime, her very existence took up a space a Ghosting should have had—if disease and servitude hadn’t killed them. Centuries-old guilt hung heavy in her heart. But that guilt was light as a feather compared to the oppression the Ghostings felt every day.
