Selena's room had all the charm of a forgotten sock under a bed — damp, dark, and stubbornly uncooperative. It was square, stone, and endlessly dull, like someone had taken the concept of "childhood wonder" and put it through a laundry press.
The whole place was luxuriously furnished with a single crib that slouched in the corner, with the whole cage taken apart and torn to bits, and a heap of books lay scattered near her makeshift bed. The covers had frayed edges and bite marks that suggested mice were trying to teach themselves to read, with mixed results.
She had created those books from scratch. Surprisingly, once she turned four, she found out she could use whatever mana was equivalent to in this world. Although the usage concepts were different, it was a smooth journey once the learning curve was over, and she had time to kill. A lot, at that.
