...

Ivan the terrible who had to endure cold and pain and fused his body with that of a monster, Atalanta who had grudges and curses circling her skin and wore the Calydonian hide like a wedding dress, Salieri who had rumors and a foreign hatred forced upon him with such intensity that he barely have a sense of self anymore, Guda who was torn away from everything they’ve ever known, their support system, their friends, their family, their home, left only with a handful of familiar faces and a suitcase of wraiths.

What makes a person? When you drag someone through dirt and suffering and despair- what remains? What’s the one thing about them that will remain? What can’t be washed with blood no matter how hard you try?

Ivan the terrible, who fought teeth and nails to protect his people. Atalanta, who through the sea of her bitterness still saw children and sought to save them. Salieri, born and made to kill Mozart, but not like this, not like this, not like this. Guda, cold and hungry and desperate and yet still reaching out, reaching out, reaching out.