К сожалению, это изображение не соответствует нашим правилам. Чтобы продолжить публикацию, пожалуйста, удалите изображение или загрузите другое.
IT ENDS HOW IT BEGINS; IN A BLAZE OF GLORY. That fire has been crackling beneath her skin for eight long years, begging for a release, a thunderous roar in her ears, and every day, she pushes it back. Red and blue sirens blast behind her eyes and she ignores every one of them, pushes them further and further down, until nothing is left but the thin, fragile carcass she occupies.
Reyna Mercy was never made for this world and it shows.
Bloodstains her mouth, a mockery of art painted across her skin. Have mercy, they pleaded, but didn't they know? Didn't they see it? The mercy ran out years ago, burnt to a crisp in the name of their god.
How dare they beg for its return. How dare they, the zealots and the faithful, whisper out final prayers to an unforgiving god, ask for the one thing they ensured the destruction of.
Reyna Mercy let her surname die when she was ten years old and they do not have the right to ask for its return.
Embers dance across her face, reaching up to the pointless little thing she's used for years. Fourteen and it's in her hands. Fifteen and its resting on her face.
Eighteen, and that's where it burns.
It's what happens to everything around her, in the end; it burns. She is fire and death and rebirth and she will destroy anyone that dares to get close to her. Dance too long on the knife's edge and you are sure to fall, but Reyna, Reyna is sharper than most, deadlier than any other.
(What do you hate more, Reyna Mercy? Your curse ━━ or your love of it?)
The world around her amounts to nothing. They, the law keepers, the vigilantes in their cloaks of red, will not find her here, hidden among the flames. They brush against her skin and the burn starts to feel like a victory, like coming home.
The smell of melted flesh does not.
Now look at her: fire is licking at her heels and she is staring at the remains of heathens, of the most devout believers, and she feels . . . nothing. The fire within her is given no retribution and for that, it roars.
And isn't that how it goes? Isn't that what she deserves? Cain kills Abel; Cain continues onwards and she steals his life, she takes the world that he was soaked in, that he did everything to keep her away from, and she loathes every moment of it, hatred broiling inside her, just waiting to get out. She takes and she takes and she fails to see the appeal of it all. This world, this life, that her brother bled for ━━ it is her worst nightmare. It is the exact thing that will kill her, she knows. She is her brother's keeper and this is his legacy, this is their lineage; burnt flesh and flickering orange.
Reyna lets out a small breathe and inhales, taking all the fire with her. It's an extension of herself, a part of her that reaches out and wreaks endless havoc. It burns the monsters, yes, but the gods, too. It'll burn the one she's looking for eventually.
