When people capable of harnessing the powers of creation used that power to make war, the result was always catastrophic. Before my fall, I’d been a hero, in the cruelest sense of the word. I’d used my strength to shatter entire legions of Renegade’s soldiers. I’d foiled plots and assassination attempts against King Morrow—Faraday’s predecessor. I’d won battles that were hopeless, waged crusades in the face of insurmountable defeat and snatched victory from the jaws of Oblivion. I became a figurehead for the war effort, and as a Knight—a lord of Ascension City—I was groomed for the throne. The penultimate battle in Reach City, which had ended the lives of so many, so suddenly, had changed all that. My hand had been forced at the cruel point of the Roseblade. I’d used the epic sword to change all Forget. Atlantis was no longer a secret anymore. The myth had been dragged screaming into the light. I’d long since attracted Morpheus Renegade’s attention, his ire, but that night he turned his whole might against me—the war was no longer Knights against Renegades.
