Legend

The World As I Knew It

Dear Reader, you and I, we're not so different. My name is June Iparis, and while my world might seem alien to you, it's filled with the same human emotions, the same sky-reaching hopes, and the same earth-shattering disappointments that I suspect you've felt in your own life.

I grew up in a place that might seem like a page torn from a dystopian novel—a Los Angeles far removed from the glitz and glamour you might picture. It was a city split in two by war, by wealth, by a virus that seemed as selective as fate itself.

In my world, the Republic and the Colonies were at each other's throats, each convinced of their own righteousness. I was born into the heart of the Republic, a prodigy in a society that worshipped such rare talent.

I breezed through my trials, the tests that determined one's worth in this harsh world, and emerged as the Republic's star, destined for greatness—or so I thought. But greatness is a relative term, isn't it? I've come to learn that what one may see as a meteoric rise could just as easily be a fall from grace.

It's much like your world, where the lines between success and failure, right and wrong, can blur and shift before your very eyes. You've likely felt the sting of a misplaced trust, the ache of a love lost, the hollow victory of a goal achieved that no longer holds meaning.

They were all parts of my story, parts of the person I've become.

The Facade of Perfection

Perfection, dear reader, is a lie we tell ourselves. I was the Republic's golden girl, the top of my class, the youngest ever to achieve such high military rank.

You might see yourself in the way I used to strive for those perfect grades, the perfect job, the perfect life. But beneath the gleaming surface, there was a current of unrest, a sense that all was not as it seemed.

It's like chasing a horizon that keeps moving away, no matter how fast you run. My brother, Metias, was the only family I had left, and in many ways, he was my anchor, the person who reminded me that there was warmth in a world that often felt cold and calculating.

When he was murdered, it was as if that anchor was ripped away, leaving me adrift in a sea of questions and conspiracy. You've been there, haven't you? Lost in the wake of a personal tragedy, searching for answers, for justice, for a path forward.

In that search, I came across Day, the Republic's most wanted criminal. He was everything I was supposed to despise, a boy born into the slums, a rebel who questioned the very foundations of our society.

But in chasing him, in seeking to avenge my brother, I stumbled upon truths that shook the core of everything I believed in. It's a feeling you know all too well—the ground-shifting realization that challenges your core beliefs, urging you to see beyond the black and white.

The Colors of Truth

Truth, dear reader, is not always dressed in the colors we expect. Day was not the villain I had envisioned; he was a victim of the same system that had raised me up.

In his eyes, I saw the reflection of a society that was broken, divided by lines that had been drawn without our consent. It's a lesson you've perhaps learned in your time— that the enemy is often not the person standing opposite us, but the misunderstandings and prejudices that blind us to our common humanity.

In seeking justice for Metias, I began to unravel the lies I had been fed, the propaganda that had colored my view of the world. It was a painful process, akin to tearing down the walls of a home only to find it was built on sand.

You know the feeling, don't you? That moment when you question everything you've been taught, when you start to forge your own path, guided by your own moral compass. And as I grew closer to Day, I learned about love—not the storybook kind, but the gritty, real-world love that is born out of struggle and sacrifice.

It's a love you recognize, one that's been tested by fire, that's seen the worst of us and stayed, steadfast and true. It's the kind of love that makes us better, that pushes us to be the best version of ourselves, for ourselves and for those we care about.

Lessons from the Streets

The streets of the sectors taught me more than any classroom ever did. They were harsh, unyielding teachers, but they were honest.

I learned about resilience, about the kind of inner strength that isn't measured by physical prowess or intellectual feats, but by the ability to keep moving forward when everything inside you wants to give up. You've felt it, haven't you? The bone-deep weariness that comes from fighting battles that seem endless, from facing a world that seems to take more than it gives.

I learned about hope, too. Hope, that fragile, unkillable thing that seems most luminous when the night is at its darkest.

I saw it in the eyes of the people in the slums, in the laughter of children who had nothing but still found joy in the simple act of living. It's the same hope that whispers to you in your lowest moments, promising that dawn is just beyond the horizon, if only you hold on.

And I learned about choices—the ones that define us, the ones that lead us down paths we never expected to walk. Life is a series of crossroads, and with each decision, we shape our destiny and the destiny of those around us.

You understand that, I'm sure. With every choice you've made, you've painted a stroke on the canvas of your life, sometimes with bold colors, sometimes with shades so subtle they're felt rather than seen.

The Cost of War

War, dear reader, is an entity that feeds on the souls of the young, the dreams of the hopeful, the peace of the innocent. I've seen its cost, counted it in the lives it claimed, both enemy and ally.

I've felt its toll in the weight of a gun, the chill of a command that sends others into the fray. You've seen its echoes in your own world, in the headlines that speak of distant conflicts, in the debates that rage over the price of security versus the value of freedom.

But war also teaches lessons that peace cannot. It teaches you about the depth of human endurance, about the lengths to which we will go for those we care about, for the ideals we hold dear.

It's a crucible that burns away the superfluous, leaving behind only what is truly important. You've experienced your own battles, I'm sure, fought against your own demons, stood your ground against the storms that threatened to sweep you away.

In the midst of conflict, I found clarity. The veil of my former life was torn away, revealing a world that needed more than just soldiers; it needed healers, it needed voices of reason, it needed hearts willing to understand rather than condemn.

It's a revelation you may have had in times of personal upheaval, the understanding that sometimes, the hardest fights are the ones that require us to lay down our arms and reach out with open hands.

The Bonds That Bind

Relationships, dear reader, are the threads that bind the fabric of our lives. They are the source of our greatest joys and our deepest sorrows.

Losing Metias tore a hole in my world, but in that loss, I found new connections that became just as precious. Day, his family, and even Tess, a girl who had every reason to see me as an enemy, became my new anchors, my new definition of family.

You've felt it too, haven't you? The way people enter our lives, sometimes unexpectedly, shaping our journey, healing our wounds with their presence. These bonds are not forged without pain.

They are tested by misunderstandings, by the mistakes we make, by the very human flaw of thinking we know what is best for others. I've stumbled in my relationships, hurt those I meant to protect, let my pride and my fears get the better of me.

It's a dance you're familiar with, the delicate balance between holding on and letting go, between supporting and smothering. Yet, it is through these bonds that we find redemption, that we discover parts of ourselves we never knew existed.

In loving others, we learn to love ourselves. In forgiving them, we find our own forgiveness.

It's a truth you've likely encountered in your own life, in the moments when you've been lifted by a friend's encouragement, when you've been seen and accepted for who you truly are.

The Journey Continues

So here we are, you and I, at the end of this letter but not at the end of our stories. I've shared with you the world as I knew it, the lessons learned, the love found, the truths uncovered.

I've laid bare my soul in the hope that you might see your reflection in its mirror, that you might find comfort in our shared humanity, strength in our common struggles. My journey is far from over, and neither is yours.

We continue to grow, to learn, to love. We continue to face the challenges that life throws at us, drawing on the resilience we've built, the hope we've nurtured, the choices we've made.

And as we do, we become better, not in the sense of perfection, but in the richness of our experiences, the depth of our compassion, the breadth of our understanding. If my story has touched you, if you've seen parts of yourself in the trials I've faced and the lessons I've learned, then I invite you to delve deeper into the world I come from.

"Legend" by Marie Lu is a masterpiece that paints a picture far more vivid than the sketches I've offered you here. It is a tale that will take you on a journey through a world that is at once familiar and strange, through the lives of characters who are flawed, beautiful, and achingly real.

Thank you for walking this path with me, even if only for a little while. May the insights gleaned from my life resonate with you, and may you find the strength to endure, to become the person you are meant to be.

Our stories may be different, but our hearts beat to the same rhythm, and in that, we are eternally connected. With warmth and kinship, June Iparis