Chapter 52: Chapter 50: The white-feather spirits

My hands are bound, but my spirit remains free.

As I was born into this world, a piece of it, like a seed that was to grow into a tall tree; so do I leave it, felled.

I do not regret the choices that I have made to bring me here.

I do not deny the crimson tinge of the blood on my hands. It is there by my right to fight for life.

As does an acorn, pushing through the soil to rise to birth; so did I. I fought. I fought to push through the dirt and the rocks and the rubble. I fought through the worms and the bugs and the monsters and then through the humans. I clawed and I tore and I broke the weedy surface, gasping for air, as if I were a freshly drowned beast.

— And now, I am to leave once again. I am to return to the darkness that is deeper than the soil from which I grew.

But even if they have taken my home, they won’t take my spirit. I alone will choose its fate.

I built this place.

I will be the only one who tears it down.

Get fucked.