The Price of a Stolen Childhood

White spires of Zakuul, a sandbox made of steel, Lessons etched in silence taught me not to feel. Father crowned my cradle, called the storm my gift, Tuned a daughter’s voice to thunder, pushed the child adrift. I held the living lightning with no hand to hold, Knights knelt to an emblem, not the girl in cold. Every sunrise colder, every rule a stone— They built an Eternal Throne and left me there alone. You named it “control,” pressed it into my skin; When I cracked, you smiled and whispered, “Discipline.” I am the price of a stolen childhood— Raised in the dark to do what no child should. Every monster I became was carved from what you broke, From the ruins of my innocence, from fear in every note. I wear a shattered crown on the Eternal Throne— Power as a prison where the light is overthrown. Hear me through the thunder you planted inside me— I am Vaylin, and I still ache to be free. On Nathema’s dead silence I learned to hide my scream, Your whisper in my marrow rewrote my every dream. You laced me with fail‑safes, a leash you called “care,” Pulled tight when I reached for a breath of air. Arcann took the battles; I took blade and blame, Senya’s distant lullaby could not unmake this cage. If I burned a galaxy, don’t feign you couldn’t see— You taught the fire my name before you taught me “me.” You wanted a weapon; I wanted a world. Your love was a shackle; my hands had to curl. I am the price of a stolen childhood— Raised in the dark to do what no child should. Every monster I became was carved from what you broke, From the ruins of my innocence, from fear in every note. I wear a shattered crown on the Eternal Throne— Power as a prison where the light is overthrown. Hear me through the thunder you planted inside me— I am Vaylin, and I still ache to be free. Strip the crown to glass; let the shards say my name— Not Empress, not prisoner—just a soul in the flame. Cut the whispering tether; let the ghosts lose their hold, Let the child I buried step barefoot on the cold. If freedom is the wound that finally lets me bleed, Then open me to daylight; let the darkness leave. I am the price of a stolen childhood— But I won’t pay it twice to prove I understood. Every monster I became was carved from what you broke; Now I carve open sky from the cord around my throat. I wear a shattered crown and choose to set it down— The Eternal Throne can keep its ever‑dimming crown. Hear me over thunder running red through my veins— I am Vaylin, and I am more than all your chains. White spires of Zakuul fade to starless sea; The child you could not love becomes the woman I can be. If I fall, let the galaxy read in fractured stone: She was born a daughter—she was never just a throne.