The Song of the Shards
We do not look at the sky the way the Outsiders do. To Miss Hartwell, the ring was a problem of numbers, a series of equations to be solved with a brass instrument and a cold heart. To us, the Halo is the only honest thing on New Callisto. It does not speak in decrees or manage us with velvet words; it speaks in the language of light and the rhythm of the fall. My name is Lila, and I am a...
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