I clasped my mother's hand tightly. The sound of the rioting hurt my ears, and Mother turned to look at me, her pale hands gently grasping my own.

"It's okay, sweet pea," she reassured me. "It's okay." I began to cry as the shouting continued, and she hushed me quickly. I felt her mind curl around mine. As always it felt like silk sliding over me, and my fears vanished, wiped away. Whenever we get upset, MindWeavers turn to each other for comfort, to wipe out fear, anger and cold. We never cry; we never scream. Our bodies might die, but we will feel no pain.

It's a strange existence, especially we see yourself bleeding but do not feel it.

But I didn't think it was strange then. I was nine years old, and oblivious to the shifting world around me. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I could truly comprehend what was happening in the final days of my city-state and my family.

The riots continued, and my mother led me inside, turning back to watch them. She closed her eyes and her face relaxed, dream-like. I knew what she was doing. Mind-reading.

Well, that was what I assumed at the time. She didn't do it to me, so for all I know she was doing some other element of MindWeaver: the more sinister ones no one had told me about at the time. Mind-control, for example. She could even have been shutting down someone's mind entirely, killing them.

I like to think she was mind-reading, so I could think the best of her. It is always hard, figuring out which of the things said about my parents and grandparents were true. I was a child, then, and they were perfect and unquestionable.

The shouting continued outside and my grandfather slammed the door to end the noise. He exchanged a look with my mother and I hung onto her dress, uncertain.

"Why are they yelling?" I asked uncertain. "Is something wrong?" My mother turned to me and smiled.

"Nothing's wrong, Vivienne," her mother told me absently.

"Mariee," my father said quietly. "Mariee, maybe it's best to stop MindWeaving your daughter."

"She is scared, Maurice. I am comforting her."

"Raising your daughter by MindWeaving is part of the reason that our people are in the streets in the first place," he reprimanded. "Most children don't need their parents shutting out all their problems."

"When she broke her hand you didn't seem so unhappy," Mariee shot back.

"When the kids at school shoved her into tree and broke her hand, you mean," my grandfather interrupted. "Because they could use their abilities and she couldn't."

"She can use her abilities." Mariee protested.

"You've taught her to use telepathy," he hissed. "She can't read, or make illusions or control."

"Those are the very things that got us in this situation in the first place," my father protested.

"Are you suggesting we give up our abilities? Leave ourselves helpless to the whims of LightningSifters and FireBreathers. Oh wouldn't the Charlizes love that?" My father was silent.

"I'm ready to move on with my training," I interrupted, confused. "I'm doing really well with telepathy now. I can send my emotions now."

"See. Emotions. She's nine years old, and she can send emotions. How long did that take you, Mariee?"

"I couldn't send emotions until I was seventeen," Mother mumbled.

"I couldn't send them until I was fifteen," my grandfather replied. "And you haven't even be pushing her. If we did, she couldn't just read by now. She could control minds. Alter memories. Mariee, your daughter is the future of our dynasty."

"It's your dynasty, father. It was never mine. I just want my family safe."

"Mariee!" He yelled. "You do not mean that. You do not mean that."

"Vivienne, come with me," my father said quickly. "Your mother and grandfather are just going to have a talk, alright?"

"Why are they fighting? I want Mum," I complained. "I'm scared. I want her to take it away."

"What you want is to grow up naturally. Without your fears tweaked," he told me.

"But-but-why can't she wipe the bad things away?"I asked, confused. "I don't want to be afraid. Or hurt."

"Because there will come a time when you will have to learn to live with pain," my father told me sharply. "A time where there will be nothing you can do to stop it."

"But-but Mum will always be there, right?" I asked him. "And I can learn, too. What were they saying about my hand?"

"You don't remember?"

"I didn't break it," I reassured him. "It's just fine, see?" My father froze.

"They wiped it," he hissed. "They wiped it! I told them she had to remember-to remember how much they can hate." He whirled around, and I called after him.

"Don't go!" I cried. "Daddy, wait! My hand's just fine!"

"Go to your room, Vivienne!"

But I didn't. After he stormed into the meeting room, I pressed my ear to the door and listened to him rage.

"I told you! I told you not to wipe it away! I told you she had to remember how much they will hate her."

"She couldn't sleep at night," Mother hissed. "She was afraid to turn the lights off, Maurice."

"Most parents seem to manage the monster under the bed without wiping it away entirely," my father yelled at her. "Mariee, what happens to your daughter when you are not there to wipe all her pain away?"

"She'll learn to wipe it away herself." Mother told him sharply. I felt a sudden influx of pride at my mother's confidence in me, followed by confusion. Why wouldn't Mum be there?

"So you would have her forget everyone-you, me, your father-just to wipe away grief?"

"We can make a world without pain," Mother pleaded. "For our daughter, we can destroy all troubles."

"No one can, Mariee." Father hissed. "If it could be done, it would have been done already by others like you." I began to cry. I didn't like it when my parents fought.

Grandfather gently opened the door. "It's okay, little Vivienne," he reassured me. "Let's go back to your room."

"I want to stay," I pleaded, stamping my foot.

"Come now, Vivienne," he insisted gently. "Mummy and Daddy will be up in a moment." I let him led me to my room, and ruffle my hair. It was silver, then, true Silverian silver. I've dyed it since, to hide who I am.

He sat down next to me on my bed, and I looked at the blankets beneath me, beginning to change colour. I squealed with delight. I could see little people walking on my fingers and I smiled at Granddad. He was making the illusions, like he made my nightmares change shape into dreams of puppies and cotton candy. MindWeaver children wanted for nothing. Hungry bellies were numbed away, and dreams were made falsely true by beautiful illusions. I didn't have a pet, but my Granddad conjured one whenever I asked for a dog or a kitten or a goldfish, each pet more wonderful than the last.

"Would you like to learn how to do that?" He asked me. But I was not entirely ignorant and I knew Mother didn't want me to learn any more past telepathy. As much as I hungered to know more I was still loyal to her.

"Does Mum want me to?" I asked suspiciously.

"Of course she does," he reassured me. "She and Dad will be very proud once I've shown them what you can do." Later, as I reflect on my Grandfather's word, I saw the meanings that I did not see then. The Silverian line was fading and weakening, our family cursed with more miscarriages than children and dangerous births till we had few relatives to stand by our side. Our enemies were at our doorstep. My power would change all that and after our magic began to weaken, he wanted that power. Desperately.

My Grandfather had always hungered for power.

"Okay," I said, excited. I had been so anxious to learn something new. Now I wish I could wipe all that surging power away. "How do I do it?"

"Imagine something," he said. "Close your eyes. What do you want, granddaughter?"

"I want..." I imagined something, but I do not remember what. Likely cake or chocolate or a new doll.

"Shape it. What does it look like? What does it feel like? Imagine it more clearly than you have ever imagined anything else." I did, complying eagerly. I opened my eyes and my illusion appeared before me. I turned to Grandfather and his eyes lit up.

Behind us, the door opened.

"Mum, look what I did!" I yelled out to her and she froze. "Mum, what's wrong?"

"I told you not to push her!" Mother yelled at grandfather. "I told you!"

"I didn't push her," he said calmly. "She did it on her first attempt." My mother clutched my hand and dragged me away from her.

"I know you want her power. But she is not a tool to be wielded. She is just a little girl, and I will not have her made into your weapon."

"Let me go!" I screamed in frustration, struggling in my mother's grip. "I want to learn more." My mother went limp and I wriggled out of her grip. My father and grandfather watched mother in horror, and she looked in with blank eyes.

"Mum?" I asked, uncertain. "Mum, what's wrong?"

"Let go, Vivienne," Grandfather said softly. "Let go of your mother." It suddenly dawned on me and I looked at my mother with horror.

"I didn't mean to!" I yelled. "I DIDN'T!" This was the first time I had taken control of someone's mind and even then I knew it was wrong.

"Just let go, Vivienne," he said calmly. "Just let go."

"I can't." I pleaded. "I can't."

My grandfather closed his eyes and I felt my grip on my mother's mind weaken until she blinked in confusion, her eyes no longer blank.

"Vivienne, come with me," she said shakily. "Don't try to teach her again, father."

"I didn't mean to," I said quietly. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay Vivienne," Mother sighed. "We know you didn't mean to." I caught a glimpse of my grandfather as my mother dragged me out of the room. He smiled at me, hunger in his eyes.

"So powerful," he muttered to himself, to me. "Such potential."

That morning was the first time I was afraid of him. The first time I was afraid of myself and the power inside my skin.

I suppose I finally got a taste of how everyone else feels about MindWeavers.