Ivy had expended so much passion on this impossible dream, only to stand helpless as it was granted to others. Her life will settle into a humdrum rhythm, and some forty years later, she will be scraping a meager existence as a private investigator, anchored by the comforting weight of predictability-ordinary and scathingly unmagical. Instead, she will end up dragging her hopes behind her like a chastised child dragging her stuffed bear thumping up the stairs. She is not the Chosen One, standing over her peers like a towering peak-all the possibilities of life, death, and magic spinning in her head. She will not be whisked away to train in a magician’s school where she will have all the glory her teeth can snatch.
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