The first day, she would not stop weeping, so he rocked her in his arms and let her grieve. The second day, he offered her water in his large cupped palm, and she drank it. On the third day, he offered her bread from his hand, and she ate it. “What is your name?” he asked her. “Mizrah,” she answered. Her name was a word in an ancient tongue that meant both misery and vengeance. Vix smiled. “It is a strong name for a strong spirit.” Mizrah stopped weeping. On the fourth day, and every day thereafter, she fell more deeply in love with Vix. He devoted his life to her, warming her dark soul.
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