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Sablefyre. An ancient element of the gods, forged eons ago in Aethyria’s fiery heart. A single touch could turn a body to ash, and blood to stone.
As I pondered the potential outcomes, the somber kindling of grief that simmered in my chest curled and lashed, fueled by my growing anger. A quiet flame that rose with a burgeoning need to be set free. Emotions I was forced to keep hidden for fear of looking possessed by evil, as girls were often perceived when they felt too much.
It was sickening that it took a suitor to spare my reputation, my future. How tragic that a woman’s worth equated to the depth of a man’s pockets.
“Who taught you to sing?” Smiling, I shrugged. “Myself, I suppose. Who taught you to frown?” I asked with an air of amusement. His lips twitched, as if he might smile but refused. “Quite the opportunist, aren’t you?” “I’m just not familiar with your other talents, besides fighting and growling and snarling.”