She was born during the first moon, in the 37th year after the flood. Her mother died minutes after she was born, too weak to withstand the torture and joy of bringing a child to life. With her last breaths, she gave her little girl a name. Aurora, like the dawn. Aurora, like the shiny metal, that she had spent her lifetime digging. Aurum, Gold.
Aurora May, raised by her father, a girl with long golden locks, cold, pale skin, and a heart of gold.
YOU ARE READING
Gold.
FantasyGold. That was her fate, her future, her life. Gold. Not blue, red or green, no. Gold. She was their princess. She was their leader. She was their heart. She was their heart, but hers was cold.
