I stood transfixed before the Moon Goddess—my mother—her silvery light bathing the temple in an otherworldly glow. Despite her divine radiance, I found my voice.
"Why?" The single word carried the weight of my entire childhood. "If you're so powerful, why did you let me suffer at the orphanage? Why were Lyra and I abandoned?"
The Goddess's expression softened, her luminous eyes reflecting centuries of wisdom. "Your path required you to understand what it means to be powerless before you could wield true power."
"That's not an answer," I said, surprising myself with my boldness. "I was beaten. Starved. Treated like I was nothing."
"And yet you survived. You remained kind." She reached out, her fingertips brushing my cheek. "Would you understand the pain of others if you'd never experienced it yourself? Would you fight for the weak if you'd always been strong?"
