In the beginning there was Darkness

Welp. Wessex is done arguing with others, be they self-pitying young women or seemingly omniscient white-haired nerds. Maea is free to construct her own narrative about herself, to stick to the status quo and old alliances, to take a chance on something that is not guaranteed. You can’t fly if you won’t take a leap of faith. She doesn’t even look around at the other two with her. Wessex simply nods her assent and has made up her mind. Let her see what others cannot. “Just tell me what you need,” she says with a little upward twist in the corner of her mouth. Maea Samuel WESSEX She whispered back, I am the storm