where the shadow ends

Melita

they should have checked the ashes
of the women they burned alive

Considering the amount of losses she’d managed over the course of her young lifetime, perhaps she would’ve understood it, had she been given half a chance. Instead, he’d retreated, and she’d had absolutely nothing but an empty house and a loathsome heart. Maybe not much had changed since then, given her antics of meandering until some action caught her impulsive notions, and she was off again.

The latter of which kept her stuck right there, chin still seditious, ready to conquer and beat the world down over nothing and everything. The infernal proportions of her blood didn’t want to give in and craved some vehemence, some violence, some gods damned atonement, and her eyes narrowed dangerously, another hiss sliding from her mouth. “The fucking refuge,” if she heard about that place one more time she was going to scream.

A snarl threatened over her lips, as if she wanted to have anything of his, and she wasn’t going to be dragged into some forsaken sanctuary. “Dinner,” she said flatly, brain attempting to circulate and surmise what was going on. A redo? A do-over? When she’d tried before? When they just snarled and snapped at one another? When selfishness caught and snagged and all they had left was their anguish, despair, and loathing? “What’s going to make this any different than all the other times?”

because it takes a single wild ember
to bring a whole wildfire to life