Offering: Fantasy

[penthius]

A lit candle, a breath, a tear, a drop of blood. It seemed like such a small token offering, but it was what she had within her, what every person did, and if the offering was taken, she knew it would be more than small and more than token. If the offering was taken, they could use the affinity to take her every breath, her soul, her heart, and even her life. She hoped they'd take it, as she knelt in the cold stone cave that was her only refuge, praying before a carved idol that was ancient and worn and nothing like the newer gods they had worshiped in the town that was now burning below her. It was an old sort of faith--.

Inspiration: Thinking about lighting the morning candle.
Story Potential: Medium-high?
Notes: Think I don't want it to be gods, as such, but spirits of a place (small s). And they take her. And what they want her to do for them is not always good or gentle, but sometimes it is, and there'd be an overall redemption in there for her somewhere.