To Flame a Wild Flower

It’s not in my nature to beg, but I’ll stay on my knees until I feel that flame sputter out.

And then …

I’ll rip the world to shreds.

I’ve tumbled into a darkness so deep it’s hard to see the light, my petals curling inward as I tip my face from the sun. Hide from my monstrous actions.

Traitor. Murderer.

High Mistress.

My mistakes hunt me down, and I’m pulled into a political tug-of-war, balancing Ocruth’s welfare on the edge of a bloody blade. The moon is swelling, the weight on my shoulders compacting, and my unfailing curiosity keeps weaving its roots in the wrong direction.

Horrible truths unravel, casting explosive light on everything I thought I knew. I’ll have no choice but to shed my morals, my withering self-preservation, and sow the seed of a plan set to bloom beneath a bloated moon.

One wrong move could destroy everything.

Destroy me.

Lines will blur, blood will spill, and I’ll learn how fragile I really am – at a cost far greater than I could have imagined.

Fate is a ravenous beast, and there’s only so far I can run.