Once upon time there was a girl who left ashes in her wake; soot and blood shadowed every step she takes. The scent of anticipation and the sweltering walls listened patiently as her fiery feet flew across the ballroom floor. The prince drawn by the warmth of her smile and the red of her hair had asked her to dance. All for a marriage? They should have left it to chance. The unruly flames danced with them and the smoke kissed the young prince’s lungs. The ball went splendidly until prince charming became prince charred. She could hear voices screaming at her as they drowned in the fiery sea. She chose to ignore it. After all, she was only borrowing this form. Imagine, someone as powerful as Ifrit going to prison for identity theft.  All of this started with the wish of a naive little girl.

“I wish to go the ball, to dance with the prince and burn in a fire of rebellion.” She wished silently.

So wished. So granted. New body wanted. She had no choice but to place a new ad:

’Wishes will be granted. Wanted: fresh carcass, recently owned.’