She burns at night, fire consuming her soul so that the sheets stick to her skin. Dreams she does not understand, does not want to understand, visions of men with embers in their eyes and darkness in their hearts.

That was the nature of men, she had been taught, for power corrupted even the best of them. She has seen that, lived that, and did not ( Read more... )

The branches rip at her dress, her hair, the delicate skin of her hands, yet she does not feel the tearing.

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