of Sword and Flame

 "And they lived happily ever after..." a librarian finished, shutting a book and glancing at a group of small children at her feet. They giggled, their small round cheeks still raw from the outside cold. Their clothes were damp and tattered, the dark, wet spots sinking into their skin like claws. Melting bits of snow clung to their boots as they shivered, and they rubbed hands over their arms as a small fireplace flicked its ashes toward them.

In the corner of the small bookstore, a tall, wiry girl glided a hand along the shelves of books before her. She wore a permanent scowl, sparse brows furrowed as if she were dealing with matters much more deadly than finding a simple book. The girl had but one outstanding feature, a pair of scars that could be mistaken for a birthmark. A large red splotch of twisted, melted flesh covered her right eye, and a similar spot splattered against her left cheek.

She reached up to the top row of books. Beneath her shirt, a necklace shifted, hidden in the folds of fabric. But a slight, insistent purple glow always seeped from the stone no matter how covered it was. To most, they'd think it a piece of jewelry, simply there to add elegance. She found it only a vexation.

She dragged her fingers lightly across the row of books before her, their spines bruised and broken from many hands holding them. Then, finally, her hands discovered the book she was seeking. The spine of it was plum purple with silver letters for the title. She tugged at it, sending dust flying everywhere as it came free from its tight prison.

Setting the book down on the counter with a plop, she tapped her fingers impatiently on the wood as her eyes followed the librarian, watching as the middle-aged lady rose and stepped over to the counter.

"Did you find everything alright, dear?" The lady asked, the scent of vanilla and cinnamon wafting from her as she shuffled. No one would dare call the girl before her pretty, especially not with piercing, glaringly silver eyes like hers. This girl was a collection of rough, tailored edges filed down so sharply that they could cut anyone who dared to get in her way. But the librarian always believed people should be treated with kindness all the same.

She pushed a pair of red horn-rimmed glasses up onto her nose and reached for the book the girl had set down.

The girl nodded silently, dark, raven-colored shoulder-length hair falling forward as she did so. The librarian caught notice of the book's title before her.

"Ah, The Golden Rose. I used to love that one. Happy endings enchant me so." She looked up at the girl, and almost as quickly looked back down after seeing the girl's sharp eyes again. "Do you like fairy tales?" the librarian asked, a soft yet lively voice carrying across the small counter. She was trying to break the ice.

The girl kept quiet for a few seconds.

"I do," she answered.

Her voice was cold and quiet in a way that made it seem as though she never spoke. The girl produced a small blue pouch and removed two bronze coins. As they rattled against the wood between her and the librarians, she scooped up the book and stepped out the door.

Despite knowing what was coming, Kyra still wasn't prepared for the large gust of cold air that slapped her in the face. She pulled her dark crimson coat closer around herself and yanked her hood even lower in response to the wind.

Her feet began to pick up, shoving past the sea of people crowded on the sidewalk as the thick blanket of snow reached up to cling to her boots. As she watched others rush by, occasionally bumping her shoulder, Kyra began to pick up on a strange string of words. She glanced up to see that her ear had caught a pair of men whispering, huddled against the wall, fear built up in their voices like pressurized steam in a teapot waiting to boil over.