(Alnilam)
The magic stored in the diary takes my mind back to my first memories. Born with tiny wings. Silver and violet. Amidst my tiny cries, the command was given.
Snipping of the scissors.
My horrible cries.
The intense pain.
And then just silence.
Who does that to a child?
They took away my wings. Framed and kept them like a souvenir in this wretched room.
Now, I understand the exceptional magic I possess.
Why I connected with Amaia differently.
The way I was able to command her magic to reveal itself to me.
Why her wings glue themselves to my back.
The scars and random pain in my shoulder blades.
My ever-soured mood.
The way I don't want to smile.
Why only my blood matches hers.
I didn't mean to cry and yet I couldn't hold myself back when I held my severed wings in my hand.
How they would have grown if they weren't taken from me.
My identity, a very significant part of me, was stolen.
