Greatwater Lake Krýo

there was much turmoil in the young man. she watched as the unrest simmered beneath the surface, noted each flitting change of expression as he summoned the words to speak. when he did so, it was a throwaway response; nothing of use to her.

he either was hiding something, or burying that which he did not want to live with. fiamma thought it to be the latter.

she was formulating her own reply when he spoke again, the harsh tone of his voice clashing with the casual question. she shifted, sending little ripples across the water outward from her form. slowly, she smiled, and her eyes took on the hazy glow of memory.

my father was the firstborn son of a powerful family, fiamma explained. and so, as the eldest, he had first pick of names for his own children. he promised his mother he would name his first daughter after her—a great matriarch.

there was an reverent look to her countenance as she remembered the old woman, who had only lived a few moons after her birth before passing. her coat was fiery red; her eyes gold as sunset, she murmured. my father looked similar. but i could have been born any color—white or green or blue—and he still would have kept his vow.

submerged, fiamma could blend with the dark, gray stones beneath the water. only her eyes—like the frozen heat of glacier ice—reflected her true moniker. . .and her true nature.

destiny, then, antigone, she replied. and perhaps a reminder that things are not always what they seem.

a chill ran through her at the thought. she had learned that lesson all too well when her father—a man she had loved more than life itself—became a monster. all because of a rumor. and even if the rumor had been true. . .

do you live nearby, antigone? she asked, keeping her own haunted visions at bay as she instead focused on the flame-kissed wolf. i am very new to these parts and still exploring.

the lake seemed endless from this vantage point, though the nearby mountains still rose up, promising a haven within (and beyond).