so what if she was a HYPOCRITE ? she owed nothing to this world, much less to ROSE. her father a pawn to the wardens, their blood cursed with misfortune, hunted and DEAD. bethany, precious and good, fallen to fate, to chance or her weakness, DEAD. her mother, maker, innocent and right, always somehow right, swallowed by that cursed city’s madness, DEAD. carver ? as though he had ever truly been in reach, joined those damned wardens, with their tainted blood and sordid ways, GONE. she dared not think about anders, that everything was ripped from her, that loving him was a mistake to begin with, and perhaps a prince could have lead her to a better fate. nevertheless, she was the only one left now, the only one within her grasp. did rose truly think that she would give up that last spark easily ?
   she stood throughout the quake, broad shoulders and fire, until it threw her off, violently and onto her side. it did not stop her, of course not. she burned, still, took in the scent of burning skin and fabric, moved her arm to send a punch at the ground itself, flames and force leaving a crater behind, small but crackling. her knuckles ached and she was sure there was blood, blood that dried quickly under the heat dancing along her arms. one more scar hardly made a difference. she knew the moment she would reach her staff anger would get the better of her, the moment she drew it she would drown them both in flames.Â
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