Whispering Fire
I never liked the concept of fire.
It was a burning heat that, with one wrong move, could destroy centuries of life and love and possession. It was wild, untamed, and not something I ever wanted to be around.
But what I do love is how it whispers.
If you listen to it, it will tell you a story you never knew.
I like to think of my magic that way. The unkempt red that emanates from beneath my skin, lighting up a room with a million fragments of light and shadows.
My magic is a whispering fire.
It comes from the depths of only God knows where, fluttering like butterflies. It's a song, a poem, a story, a legend, and nature itself.
It's a fire.
One wrong move, and everything is destroyed. It's wild and untamed.
And yet, it's something I always want to be around.
I never liked fire. But magic is my life.
Uncertainty surrounds both. And both whisper stories of legends long lost and secrets yet to be told. Stories that were kept under lock and key, only to be told to those who care to listen.
I love to listen.
My magic is like fire.
And while I never liked fire, I always liked how it whispered.
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