There is a time to destroy and a time to rebuild. Now is the time to rebuild. Brida Donahay knows this, but there is a problem. She is a monster, and how can monsters do anything but destroy life?
Monsters were not made to wield light, Brida reasons. But her monster-tamer, Nigel, believes differently, as does Oskar, Nigel's apprentice. The three of them are a perfect fit for the others: the monster, the monster-tamer, and the monster-tamer's apprentice.
So it would seem.


If Brida closed her eyes and hugged her knees to her chest and rocked back and forth, she could almost believe she was invisible.

The feathery fingers of sunlight reached through the cell window, only slightly inconvenienced by the bars that kept the cell's inhabitant from escaping. But the sun's attempts to lift Brida's spirits were futile. There was nothing, and there was no one, that could remove Brida from her place of sorrow.

Eventually, though, the light of day coaxed Brida into opening her squinched-tight eyes. Wiping her nose unceremoniously on her sleeve, she blinked. Once, twice, three times. She had not died, after all, as she would have liked; no, she was still shut away in her cell.

Brida's red hair shoved its way into her face, causing her to remember why she was thus imprisoned. She was different. Of course, she was not hidden away merely because of her red hair; she was sentenced to a life inside an asylum, because of "core differences" that set her apart from all others her age. Her red hair was only irony, as she looked as different on the outside as she felt on the inside. No one else she knew had red hair.

And no one else she knew could start fires with just one pang of anger, either.

Brida closed her eyes again and hugged her knees to her chest again and rocked back and forth again, because if she did that, she could almost believe she was invisible.

The End

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