Page 169 of At the Mercy of Midnight

And somewhere, deep inside the silence of her true mind, Amelia began to whisper her own name, over and over…

Trying not to forget who she was.

Trying not to forget who she loved.

Trying not to forget how to fight.

She whispered other things, urging her voice to become stronger, her free will to find a way to break loose, to tear against the bars that held her captive.

The spark waited.

She whispered it. Willing the whispers to turn to screams. For the silence to grow louder. She knew who she was, Amelia would not let herself forget it. She would not let herself forgethim.

The storm would return.

I am the storm.