Bicoastal adj. of or relating to or living or working on both the east and west coasts of the United States
Her name sets her apart from the beginning. That she is shy and asks the wrong questions does nothing to help the matter.
She fits her name, leaping fearlessly into the fray despite her size. It takes three children twice her age to contain her.
Diana wants to be devout, tries harder than any of them, spending hours in the sun trying to see what comes to the rest of them so naturally. She can too, if she tries hard enough.
Leona becomes the defender of the weak, champion of the small, even though she herself is hardly any larger. This make it all the harder when they are punished to get to her.
They lock her up to deprive her of the sun. Instead they give her the moon.
Her older friends begin to disappear. This only makes her fight harder for the ones she has left.
Late nights of research yield days of silent disapproval. What few friends she has slowly drift away.
Her breath comes ragged, harsher still whenever a kick lands on her broken ribs. Leona stays curled on the ground, gritting her teeth and refusing to let out a sound.
Her mother offers her the knife one more time.
"No," Leona says, and covers her head once again.
Diana throws the book on the ground, immediately regretting any damage she has done to it but not the looks on their faces.
"Why can't you just listen to me for once? Is being heard really so much to ask?"
Elder Aelus begins to speak, but Diana waves him off dismissively. "Yes, yes, two weeks in isolation. Just give me a few minutes; I have my books ready."
The Solari come for her, collecting the Rakkor's discarded refuse.
"I expected them to attack," the old man says when they clear the village, "The way they stared as we walked by."
"The Rakkor do not attack old men." Leona replies. "We are not cowards."
"Have I finally gotten through to you?" Diana asks the room of corpses, wiping her blade on bloodied robes until it shines silver.
She leaves without looking back.
"It will take some time to adjust to the sun's power," they tell her. "Rest. We'll take care of everything."
Burning with fever, Leona rolls from the bed as soon as she is alone. It is too soft for her to stand.
Alone in the cave, Diana heaves, emptying her already empty stomach. Though her body freezes and coughs rack her chest, she only has to look to the sky to remember she is not truly alone, and, for the first time in her life, free.
After years on the mountain's peak, the League is a shock. Everyone here is chosen in their own right. At first Leona resents it, but soon it is the thing she cherishes above all else.
The League is poison, a pit where all her darkest designs can sit and fester. They soak into her and help her forget all her nobler purposes. Nobler purposes are for naive little girls.