65
“Hello,” I say, my voice rough, caught in my throat. I clear it, hoping to sound more confident. “My name is Poet Graves. Tonight, I was part of a mission that discovered many secrets The Shield has been lying about. And now, I’m here to tell you the truth.”
I notice a few people have pulled out their phones, and my face is now visible on their screens. My gaze meets Rook’s where he stands behind the camera with his arms folded. He mouths, You’re doing great.
Then, I lay it all out. The Tiera Frais. The Veil. The Neo-Cities. The Kindred, living in the wilds. All the things that have been kept from them. I wonder how many people are seeing this and how many would rather turn away than believe what I’m saying.
I tell them General Sol’s story.
The real one.
About the cure.
About the lies.
“Tonight, we discovered why they’ve been keeping it from us,” I say.
I watch as the feed switches to the footage we recorded earlier.
I explain what they’re seeing.
“This is how they’ve been powering the city,” I say. “Stealing innocent people to add to their network. Trapping these poor souls while telling everyone we’re dangerous. If you’ve ever lost someone to the Extinguishers, this is probably why.”
The video feed switches to a reel of my brother, and I start to tremble.
“This is my brother, Raine,” I say, my voice cracking. “All this time, I thought he was dead. But this is where he’s been. Defiled. Abused. Taken.”
Edward spins around in his chair and circles his finger, telling me to wrap this up.
“They have a cure,” I finally say. “And they kept it from us so they could do this. Instead of healing us, they used us.
“I’m here to tell you that you don’t have to accept or be a part of this anymore.
It should never have mattered that you were born a Hollow, a cog, or even a Keeper.
We should never have been divided this way.
It only benefitted The Shield, and what they’re most afraid of is any of you realizing it.
You can fight back. Demand something else.
Dignity. Respect. An equal share of what this world has built. ”
Edward flips another signal. Thirty seconds left.
“I thought I understood my place in this world,” I say.
“A year ago, my entire future had been decided. I thought I knew my destiny. But I discovered that destinies aren’t written in stone.
They can be altered. Shifted. Broken and then .
. . created. Every one of us has the power to do it.
Every one of you has a spark inside you that can ask for more. ”
I blink.
Stare into the camera.
Feel my orbit stop spinning and change course.
“I am Poet Graves. And for the first time in my life, I am free.”