Mische rose from the forge. She was doused in the white of the flames and the darkness of the shadows. At her heels, the dead climbed from the crack. Her hair flew out behind her. Her eyes were bright white, her skin glowing a bronze that rivaled the sun itself. The flames of the forge and the shadows of the dead whorled around her like a ball gown of divinity. She didn’t walk, she simply ascended.
