I never asked for magic. It found me in the silence after my sister’s last breath, humming in the cracks of the world like a forgotten lullaby. Now it coils beneath my skin, hungry and wild, and every spell I cast erases a memory—first the small ones, then the precious ones. The Council says I’m a weapon that must be controlled. The Rebels say I’m the key to tearing them down. But no one asks what I want. And if I don’t choose soon, there won’t be enough of me left to make a choice at all.