"You've been hiding in the shadows, little one. Working in secret." Her voice was soft but serious. "Are you brave enough to step into the light?"
For a long moment, FaeLina didn't answer. Instead, she looked out at the perfectly ordered city below. The lights were starting to flicker on in the gathering dusk, each one appearing at exactly the right moment, in exactly the right sequence. All those neat, tidy rules keeping everything in its place.
But she didn't think about the rules. She thought of Mochi. Of Gilda, Pip, Zazu, and Sir Crumplebuns. Of her team, waiting for her in their illegally cozy room with their form-free crackers and their wonderfully improper campfire.
She thought of all the sparks she'd seen—the warrior's loyalty, the rogue's courage, the philosopher's wisdom, the knight's earnest heart.
And she thought of Pellan's words: 'Use their own tools against them.'
Form 18-Gamma was exactly that—their tool, turned against them.
