Chapter 90: Thaddeus
There are three hearts beating inside my chest.
I don’t mean the muscle. I mean the tug.
One that belongs to the sky, restless and ringing with thin, cold air.
One that belongs to the earth, heavy and patient, hooves counting miles the way monks count prayers.
One that belongs to the sea, old as salt, where silence is weight instead of absence.
Angel. Centaur. Merman.
People ask me which one I love most.
I tell them the truth: I love the cost of each, because cost makes things honest.
The sky gives me sight and demands I carry more than myself.
The earth gives me strength and demands I move even when I am tired.
The sea gives me calm and demands I accept what I cannot breathe.
I am a shapeshifter. The world thinks that means I can be anything.
What it real
