Kacie Santos
I was naive to think last year marked the end of my identity crisis. I thought finding out who I was would finally quiet the questions. Instead, discovering my past only gave my anger a reason to grow.My first year at KAE was supposed to teach me how to control my magic. What I’m learning is that my magic is only as controlled as my emotions, and I’ve been allowing my anger to dictate what I do with it. But how do I put it aside when every piece of information gives me another reason to hold onto it? I’m tired of the non-answers and half-truths.There are no books for what I am. No history I can trace back to. Whatever my magic once was, it was deliberately erased generations ago, buried in the name of power so deeply that no one even remembers it existed.And somehow, it lives in me.Now I’m left piecing together fragments of something that was never meant to be found, let alone explored.Maybe the truth isn’t what I should be afraid of, but what I turn into in the meantime.
