Scorch;

[Scorch]

WATCH THE FLAMES CLIMB HIGH INTO THE NIGHT

Three years, she muses, contemplating her niece through hardened eyes. Three years under the crown, and still I ponder whose shoulders might bear its weight whence I am worn and undeserving. Her eyes wander across the filly’s body, remembering how Echion’s skin had curved and moved in an identical fashion. Doubts flicker through her, images of other possibilities just behind the endless green of her eyes. Three years, and more to solidify an heir. Worry later, Scorch.

“If you are anything like Echion, you will succeed, with or without my guidance, just as I succeeded without hers.” The darkness from her past creeps into their conversation not only through her words but physically, too; shadows pool amongst the grasses, swirling up, up, up, until a pair of wings lay across Nayl’s small back. Scorch admires her work, silent for a moment; when next she speaks, the mirage fades.

“An Amazon is many things,” She murmurs in her husky voice, “And I can only show you some of what being one encompasses.” Her brow furrows, eyes shifting to a flinty purple-grey. “But I will show you what I know. For Echion.”

“Tell me a few things about yourself, niece. Have you any traits? Who is your father? Which kingdoms have you seen? Which caste suits your fancy?” A tight smile curls the edges of her lips towards the canopy above. “You may be Myrina’s daughter, but blood is nothing but a liquid. I will know you, before I guide you.”

Scorch, Scorch, Scorch. Through all the years, I’ve never known you to have a trivial side. It’s endearing, really, don’t you agree?

Scorch

Khaleesi of the Amazon Jungle