But because I am selfish, weak, and afraid. I can’t be alone with myself, not now, not yet. So I sit, and I listen, and I watch. And through it all, I feel his eyes.

I wish there were some middle ground.” A place where our names and our blood and our pasts don’t matter. A place without weight. A place that has never been and will never exist. “Good night, Tiberias.” Hissing, he clenches a fist. “I really need you to stop calling me that.” And I really need you. I turn and walk toward my room, my footsteps echoing and alone.

I feel as if I could touch the sky. Run my jeweled claws across the clouds and make the sky bleed red starlight.

I am the shadow of the flame.

I am married to a prince who will one day be a king. Usually this is where the fairy tale ends. Stories don't go much further than this moment, and I fear there's a good reason for it. A sense of dread hung over today, a black cloud I still can't get rid of. It is an unease deep in the heart of me, feeding off my strength.

Long ago he called us ants, Red ants burning in the light of a Silver sun. Destroyed by the greatness of others, losing the battle for our right to exist because we are not special. We did not evolve like them, with powers and strengths beyond our limited imaginations. We stayed the same, stagnant in our own bodies. The world changed around us and we stayed the same.

Thank you,” I whisper. Words I never thought I would say to her. They unsettle us both.”“You want to thank me, Barrow?” she mutters, kicking away the last of my bindings. “Then keep your word. And let this fucking place burn.” (300)