Boneshaper

Prologue

I don't pretend to know how I've lasted this long without breaking. I can't tell you how many times the thought occurred to me to turn myself in, but I haven't, and I won't. When you see something so horribly, disgustingly wrong, what kind of person does it make you to stand idly by? If attempting to make a change in this world makes me a criminal, then so be it. A criminal I shall be.

I suppose I should begin by stating, I didn't mean to kill that man. What six year old intends to kill someone? But I killed him, nonetheless. And although I didn't mean to do it, I don't regret it either. Watching a young man age rapidly before my eyes, eventually turning to a mound of dust at my feet, that's what triggered the catastrophe that has become my last thirteen years. And yet, I would do it all over again. Hell, I would kill that man a thousand times over if it meant keeping her safe. Perhaps my exile was for the best as well. It kept me far away from her, which in turn, presumably kept her safe, too. Still, there are many a sleepless night that I stare at the stars, wondering if she is too, wishing I could go home and tell my little sister not to blame herself.

She had her whole life ahead of her, and still does. I, on the other hand, was damned from the moment I was born. And though they don't hear me, I thank the gods regularly that I was born an hour before she was. Because had it been her that was tainted, instead of me, I wholeheartedly believe it would've destroyed her by now. So I'll bare this for you, little sister. I'll tear myself apart and turn this world to stone if it means a better life for you. After all, who would expect a dead man to raise a revolution?