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Summary
Stories were what remained. Albeit fantastical, they were assumed to be recollections; Truths, warped not by embellishment, but by the unimaginable cruelty of how those first villains had shaped the earth.
Who are you to correct them? You haven't made yourself a virtue of anything except your brief, burning triumph. You've abandoned what once was, and you can't expect them not to do the same to those you loved.
Or, Burning Spice looks back to the beginning of his life. It was so quiet.
