30| SCAR

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Scar

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Scar

I faintly trace the scar that is on my shoulder.

The two points that show.

Saint laid curled in a ball in front of the fire, her head resting in my lap, as my other hand played with her long golden hair.

I was fascinated with the color.

I honestly couldn't remember the exact color my hair had been before the Moon had painted it.

Had it been blond also?

Maybe a light brown.

There were no mirrors for me to look into.

No reflective surfaces for me to know what my features were like at that time.

I had been a little girl then, and had no knowledge of the Moon and her powers before that. I had not been taught within her teachings and ways, nor had I undergone the intense training and rigorous studying of the Temple.

I had been ignorant.

I had been blissfully, peacefully and wholly unaware.

I wish that could still be the case.

"Why do you think she chose you?"

I hear the faint whisper of Saint. I look down to see her blank eyes staring into the fire, taking in the flames.

I wonder if the brightness did not burn her sight.

But she never looked away.

"I don't know," I admit.

"She knew you could do it," Saint said, a faint trace of fierceness in her voice, "she knew."

I stare at her and think over the words.

"Maybe. I have every chance of failing though."

"But you won't."

I sigh at the added pressure that fixed itself to me. But the Temple had trained me for this. Put me through various stressors because they knew that one day, I would be put under the ultimate test.

We had all been ignorant though, about the true nature of what this test would entail.

"I was raised in a home that was four stories high."

I don't feel surprised by Saint's words. Everything about her mannerisms, her actions, words, and dialect- even her two-worded name- showed that she came from high breeding.

"And I thought that so long as the darkness didn't touch me I was okay. I didn't want to see the infection in people because I didn't want to feel the guilt over what I had that they didn't."

"Some are just better off than others," I whisper silently.

"Maybe," Saint says.

We sit in silence for several more minutes before she speaks again, "What about you?"

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