We are both disturbed and fascinated by visions of bleak futures, predictions of what might come if we as a society aren't careful.

For a fleeting moment, I imagine that if I were queen, I could make the act of hurting malfettos a crime. I could execute this boy's pursuers with a single command.

None of it was your fault, the whispers in my head argue. You didn't kill him, after all -- it was not your blade that ended his life. So why are you the one cast out? You didn't have to return to the Daggers -- you didn't need to help them rescue Raffaele. And still they turned on you. Why does everyone forget your good intentions, Adelina?

Why feel guilty for something that isn't your fault?
Because I loved him. And now he is gone.

Once upon a time, a girl had a father, a prince, a society of friends. Then they betrayed her, so she destroyed them all.

We are drawn to stories,” he says in a soft voice, “and every scar carries one.