She walks, hair alight with flame, closer to the center. The fires lick at her dress, climb up her body, decorate her from head to toe. She steps forward, always forward, silent footsteps echoing in the blazing heat. No one can explain why she is not fazed by the fires, or why her skin does not burn. Her skin never burns. No one can explain it; no one involved survives. But she walks steadily onward, calmly, serenely, silent. She stops at the edge of the circle. She scans the area around her for anyone hidden in the fires, but no one alive is around her. Anyone who may have followed her, unwisely of course, would be scorched and turned to windswept ash. She turns back to the circle, outlined in what seems to be a red light, and raises up one foot. Do not be afraid. It is a whisper, but no one knows who is whispering. No one has heard it but her. She pauses, lowers her foot outside the circle instead of within. The whisper does not stop, does not change tone. Do not be afraid. She has never before hesitated. She no longer does even now. She lowers one foot into the red lit circle. No change in the voice. Do not be afraid. She puts both feet into the circle. Flames soar even higher than before, spread even further. She does not laugh; she does not cry out in fear. She is used to the fire. She is never afraid. She always follows orders. Do not be afraid. So she is not afraid. She simply swallows hard and walks on. The city is demolished. She walks forever on. She continues to scorch the ground on which she steps. She comes to a new city, walks on in flame, to a new circle. Do not be afraid. She pauses outside the circle. She does not step inside. Not a blessing. Not really. Do not be afraid. She swallows. Not a blessing. She turns away from the circle, her eyes squeezed shut. She does not want to open them, does not want to look around, to see what was behind rather than ahead. She has never before looked back. Do not be afraid. She opens her eyes. A long trail behind her. Cities. Towns. Villages. All scorched, all demolished, all burned. She has never before looked back. Not a blessing. Not really. Do not be afraid. She turns back to the circle. Will she step in? Meet her fate? This is why she was given this blessing. So she could walk on, in the flames. Not a blessing. Not really. She always follows orders. She has never been afraid.
Not a blessing. A curse. Do not be afraid. She experiences what she never has. She looks up at the sky. It was once blue, once upon a time. Now it is red, red as blood, red as fire, red as an upcoming disaster. She is that same very color. Do not be afraid.
She is blood. She is fire. She is an upcoming disaster.
She is afraid.