Luneshale Pass Heavy as the weight in my chest, oh, this seldom dread

He could have been a flamesinger. That was Reverie's first thought as Senmut heeded her request; she felt the sun lighting his voice, the heat in shimmering rising waves that reminded her so much of The Gilded Sea. A song best sung at dawn, yet she felt the dawn in the golden threads of his voice spreading out across the desert.
Her gilded gaze found the sky briefly, half in anticipation that the sun itself might come down to answer this call. Then her eyes were only for him, for Senmut, scarlet man of the sun. And for a moment, somehow, she felt that they were the same; flickering red and dancing gold, artists drawn in devotion to always follow the light. She watched him in reverence, and did not dare to reach out to touch him though the desire filled her; afraid that her touch would burn, that his touch would burn, that they might both be set alight into a flame that would never die.
And when he had finished, she lifted her own voice in echoing song for the first time since the day it had been decided that she would be a dancer. It had been so long that Reverie had been uncertain she would remember, yet she did. The song in her had been long stifled but never killed. She had almost been a singer, almost, but fire had always frightened her far too much.
She wasn't afraid anymore.