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The murmurs start up again. “There are bad dreamscreechers, of course.

I hope the few that are violent killers get their due justice, but most of them are not like that.

We humans fight each other all the time.

We have serial killers, and rapists locked up in our prisons right now and yet we don't say we're all evil, right?

It's the same for dreamscreechers. We only see their soldiers that are more than likely forced into being killing machines, but we've never even seen most of them.

Fuck, most of us have never been outside of this kingdom!

We don't know what’s out there! We don't even know what Somnia is like! The dreamscreecher that loved me is proof that there are at least some with only love in their hearts.”

People start to shout and throw insults. I faintly hear the accusations.

“Fucking dictator!”

“Monster fetishist!”

“Dude's gonna destroy the kingdom! I know it!”

I turn back to Grandmother again. She keeps her dark eyes narrowed at me. She doesn't defend me, not even against the rumors they spew. She stands there, with her arms crossed, as if nothing is happening.

If this doesn't convince her, nothing I do will.

I continue over the voices and look back over the crowd.

“Ignatia is the most beautiful woman I know.

She's used her abilities to save me. She stuck by my side when everyone turned against me.

Believe me, every bit of intimacy was wanted mutually and there wasn't a moment of doubt or uncertainty that made me feel violated. I enjoyed every moment and so did she.” It's embarrassing that I even have to explain this.

“The amare flowers glowed when we touched them.

It glowed as bright as it would with soulmates.

If that isn't a sign that our love was true, I don't know what is.”

I squeeze my eyes shut before looking back to the crowd.

“I can't convince Amara. I can't even convince most of you.

Most of you are here spewing lies that have no evidence.

Ask every person yelling. They have no evidence that I'd do something so violent. Every person yelling needs to look within themselves and reflect on why they want to believe such disgusting lies about me destroying the kingdom.”

The yelling only gets louder, but I smile at the crowd.

“But to those who don't believe such baseless lies.

To those who are willing to listen. To those of you who want to challenge your beliefs, I encourage you to look into this.

Dig into every piece of evidence we have.

Listen to people of different experiences.

Listen to dreamscreechers. Once you find that dreamscreechers are as moral as we are, then I want you to let everyone hear it.

I want you to resist and protest. Do all you can to bring the truth and wake up everyone's minds to the misunderstandings that have ruined this kingdom. Change the Amara kingdom. Change Amara herself.”

I sigh, as the people’s voices drown mine and turn to Grandmother. “I'll go through this cleansing, not because I was abused by a dreamscreecher. I'm doing this, because I was loved by her, and I'm forced to do this to protect her.”

She sighs and rolls her eyes. I can almost swear her eyes twinkle with laughter.

But she wouldn't laugh at me. Not right now.

Would she?

Grandmother steps towards the crowd. “That was the voice of a manipulated sexual assault victim. It's sad to see a victim justify their rapist's actions. Some type of psychosis unfortunately.” She glares at me before continuing. “It hurts to see how deep his delusions are.”

I scowl and scoff at her. She isn't listening at all. She just draws conclusions.

I glance back at Mother, whose eyes are watering as a sob escapes her mouth. It breaks me to see Mother like that.

It seems like no matter how many years I live, my very existence only brings Mother more tears.

“Now, for your own good Amias, drink the cleansing potion.” Grandmother’s stare makes my body shudder. Her blue eyes never seemed so cold and dull before.It’s like staring into a harsh tundra. Unfriendly, deadly and empty.

I narrow my eyes at her to counter the shiver going up my spine, before I slowly raise my goblet. My strained body aches at the gesture but I ignore it. I did what I could to save Ignatia and convince Grandmother.

I guess this is it.

In my head, I'm immersed in my memories of Ignatia.

I remember first meeting her in that alleyway, and her smart mouth.

I remember how she saved my life back in the mall.

Her outrage when I told her how I felt about dreamscreechers.

How she changed me after. I remember her soft lips on my own and how her eyes lit up like a comforting camp fire.

How her words make me forget the world and only see her.

She burns bright amidst a dark world of degradation and violence.

I'd like to think I'll miss her, but I won't. The man that drinks this potion won't be the same one that wakes up. The one that wakes won't know the misunderstandings that plague the kingdom. Hate will eat at his soul and he will wonder how he became so pathetic that he fell in love with the enemy.

I will be erased.

But at least the people will remember.

They will remember me.

“This is for you… my flame…” I say before bringing the goblet to my lips. This is it.

I gulp down the potion as I savor the image of her fiery eyes and her contagious laughter. That's all I wish to see one last time before I forget her, but the mere memory of it will have to suffice.

No other image I’d rather have replay in my mind.

I take the final sip, and weakness already overtakes my body. The memory of Ignatia is swallowed by darkness when my legs buckle. Within seconds my feet slip from under me and I succumb to a black abyss.