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It was just an illusion conjured by fools who never left their libraries, or by agents of necessity

This is the Noble Lie

Every frayed nerve, every quaking cell, screa me to crawl out of the tube, to escape this insanity Is a man a coward if he realizes that bravery is just a rinder?

My first toy was a wooden sword

Adults think it adorable

“Better dead than a coward,” Aja would say when a member of the Palatine would fall in cojoke or an es we do for people ill never knoe did them

I have not used the Mind’s Eye since the Rirand else on which to rely

“Fear is the torrent,” I whisper “Fear is the torrent Fear is the torrent”

I a

Electricity tethered to carbon I am a pattern

And so is the world

With that acceptance, I release a measured breath, and sink molecule by molecule into the Mind’s Eye

I see Octavia as if she were before me

She sits in her Ocular Sphere The glass walls of the room are open and the city laid out beneath her Her eyes look down at the Oracle on

“Do not let fear touch you,” she whispers The intricate creases in her face are like the spiderweb in the high corner of the rooht it is to break and drown But to stand astride it is to see it, feel it, and use its course for your ohims Now, Lysander, I want you to lie to me, if you can…”