Ashes of the Old Self

Elvira

The moonlight poured through the window, silvering the room in melancholy. I sat cross-legged on the cold stone floor, my hands spread over my thighs, fingers trembling with restrained fury.

The visions hadn’t stopped. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw them, my fallen ancestors or so I thought.

But beneath the visions… there was rage.

Rage that cracked my veins, hot and biting, coiling tighter every ...