Ghurab
I look back at the pyre burning Jervis. I think I see something. Something dancing in the fire. It makes me want to move to it. The fire turns into feathers, into a bird. Like a phoenix from the old legends, it begins to twirl around the fire. It beckons to join me. I comply.
The fire is hot.
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The same dagger I've used for five years. My defense from thugs, my last line of defense before it takes over. I've only used it once or twice, but I needed it. Just like the ring and Ghurab is it part of me. I grab it again and slide my finger along the blade. Sharp and dangerous, but it makes me feel safe.
Comforting.
- Rabie

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Year of Birth
4702 AR
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