I'm a librarian, not an oracle.

I'm like everyone else in this stupid, bloody, amazing world. I'm flawed. Impossibly so. But hopeful. I'm still me.

The mere suggestion of fame and fortune casts a glamour all its own. It is rather alarming how quickly people will turn someone else's fiction into fact in order to support their own fictions of themselves.

They see her differently now, as somebody. And isn't that what everyone wants? To be seen?

Because there's nothing wrong with you... that can't be fixed.

She shrieks above the din. "If you wish a battle, I shall give it. I am the last of my kind. I shall not lie down without a fight.

The key holds the truth