But like I said, I never really met the guy. Silas really broke when the household turned on us. I mean, imagine finding out your entire history, trauma, death, and family was all made up by someone who wanted to ensure they had one more twisted tie to sink into someone else’s soul. I’d have a two-year long breakdown and refuse to talk to anyone, too.

Visarden had been half vampire, half elf. Because of course he was. I remember when Arkady had first unveiled his appearance to me. He’d bought sclera lenses and a long black wig that he’d tinted with the slightest hint of violet. I’d opened Snapchat to see Visarden beaming at me, looking like Holly Black’s muse come to life. “Yeah, so… Here’s… Me.” The memory can still bring a flutter to this tired, mechanical heart.

“My hand!” he wailed. “I really hurt it. Look at it. I see bone!” That last sentence seemed to echo mournfully throughout the street.
Ash paused. I could see on their face that they had to shoot down about four responses to settle on a suitably gentle one. “It– It’s just a scrape, [March.]”