It was never supposed to be this way. Yet it happened. Even when it happened, things went wrong. I was 4. Too young to remember. Too young to know. They don't know much about me, only my name. Found on the only family picture I own, three words on the back 'Mom, Dad, Marella' They told me I was hidden, by my parents who loved me enough to give themself up for me. It wasn't their fault I was born like this. It wasn't their fault that group went for me. It isn't anyone's fault that I'm a weapon. Kept in a fancy room my whole life. I'm now 8. The queen is gone, killed by those again trying to capture me. The king, who once loved me as his own, refuses to see me. The fancy room is now a cell. It wasn't their fault I found the file. My file. My life story. More mysteries. More unknowns. But they knew the answer to my biggest question. Why me? Throwing the file into the drawer in my desk, I turn, looking at the mirror My red hair glowed in the sunlight, despite all of the candles that had long gone out. My green eyes were defiant. And for the first time I snapped my fingers. And for a moment a zap of electricity lit the room
