MELITA
She moved like a sprite, limber and lithe, springing down into the columns, into the menagerie, into the chaos – baptized in mayhem and menace’s clutches, a girl who’d held onto peace and repose for as long as she could, before it fettered away into dust and shadow. She was a desert spirit and an untamed inferno, and she’d let the rest of the world see her for what she truly was. The youth didn’t come without other formidable devices, not just herself, not just her pride, not just her ferocity; the anklet from the Naiad shifting along her skin, her bow and quiver (emblazoned tips; vitriol and venom and infernal heat – courtesy of Remi) strapped to her back, her staff humming, hissing in her hands. Then faithful Fangorn, growling at her side.Wonder, curiosity, and a feverish fervor melted her into different contortions, determined to be a blaze, a fire, an audacious little thing – but for what cause? For what purpose? What remained within these walls, christened and anointed them to the stars, or were they doomed and damned all over again?
A promise slunk into her veins, pulsing in her throat, and she swallowed it whole, eager, ready, decided – stepping forward into the pit.
See I've come to burn your kingdom down
