The Burning God

Rin had spent so long hating how she felt when she burned, hating her fire and her god. The first time she’d grasped a sword, a week after her surgery, her left arm had shaken with such debilitating weakness that she’d immediately flung the blade to the ground in disgust. She felt like an observer, not a participant, like she was watching a shadow puppet show about a beautiful and suicidal struggle, something that had already happened in the past and been enshrined in myth. When at last he spoke, his voice was such a timid croak that Rin made him repeat himself twice before she finally heard him. “It’s the fields, General.