[excerpt from chapter 4]

"So," her Papa growled, his bulk filling the doorway, his voice low and mean, "You can't even keep out of trouble when I leave you at home!"

"No! No, Papa. I'm just making you some soup. Some soup! See?" she stood up, gesturing towards the carrots on the table. He lunged, and swung at her, his fist connecting with her cheekbone in a miasma of whiskey. Her head snapped back, and she fell to the floor, gasping. Her vision swam, and she tasted blood where it trailed down her cheek.

"Brat! I'll teach you to mind me." He lifted her by the back of her shirt, the fabric riding up to choke her as he shook her, one-handed. "Teach you," he muttered, swaying on his feet. He slapped her other cheek, hard, and pinned her against the wall.

Breathless, sobbing, Ash closed her eyes until the wash of red pain transformed into comforting golden sparks. The gold seemed to siphon away her fear, warming her with its light.

Each heavy blow made the light glow brighter. He knocked her to the floor again, and kicked her in the ribs. She felt something snap. Then, a larger feeling of something breaking, as she reached out beyond herself, into a whirling maelstrom of golden light.

Ash took a deep breath where she lay curled on the floor. She could hear her father breaking something on the other side of the room. She opened her eyes, and everything was still washed with glorious gold. She stood up, mildly amazed that nothing hurt anymore, filled with an ecstatic certainty of purpose that defied her fear.

"Demonspawn," her father breathed from across the room, staring at her transfixed. He was sweating, pale, his eyes wide. "Have to stop..." He picked up the knife from the table, peeled carrots rolling in every direction, dropping off the edge to mummify themselves in sawdust. He advanced toward her, slowly.

"Papa?" she said, her voice sounding marvelously clear in her own ears, like music, like trumpets announcing a king. "What's the matter? You know I was just making your soup. Your favorite one." She smiled softly. "I know you didn't mean to hurt me." Her flame-bright hair stood out from her head, rippling in a breathless wind. Her eyes gleamed with unearthly golden light.

"They were right about her," he was muttering, almost to himself, as he raised the knife. "She must have been a witch, like they said when they drove her away." He wiped his sweaty brow with the back of his knife hand, echoing her earlier gesture unconsciously. "I believed it when she said they lied. Oh, yes. I believed every word of it, even with her hair that unnatural shade. And now like calls to like, and the daughter is witching too." He giggled, a high, mad sound that shattered the air.

"Papa?" Ash's gold hued eyes fixed on his wide brown ones. "Papa, what's wrong? What are you talking about?" He leapt at her, stabbing down with the knife. The world exploded in flames.

Ash felt the gold tide wash through her, warm and effortless, fire bursting outwards in hungry glee. Her father never had time to scream. The metal blade liquefied and dropped to the floor. The four walls that had witnessed her birth were a blazing inferno, and the rippling wave expanded. Though her eyes were blinded by the white-hot heart of the fire that centered on her body, she could sense the edge of destruction circling outwards, gobbling the buildings of the town, the people, the livestock, the trees. She struggled to grab hold of it somehow, to slow the ring of death, but the wild golden pulse of the power within her was slippery, and shied away from her mental grasp. Finally, she found the connection she had forged with the twisted river of gold she could sense beneath her feet, and closed it. She threw her head back, laughing wildly, filled with light.

She began to walk through the town, through the heart of the endless fire she had unleashed, that consumed everything but her. Blazing skeletons of the buildings she had known all her life rose in stark lines through the dancing flames. Nothing lived, nothing moved but the fire, which was eating its way northward towards the river, consuming the forest in great leaps, driven by the wind. Ash could feel the fire, its joyful movement, its searching hunger. She walked, slowly, steadily, her head up, down the road and away from the town. Her body moved almost of its own volition, her senses fixed and wide, her mind moving with the forest fire. She could feel the fear of the creatures that fled before it, taste the small lives of those who were too slow to escape. Her unseeing eyes blazed golden.

Ahead, on the road, between the two stones that marked the mile boundary of the town limits, a shimmer rent the air with a matching swirl of gold. A rounded doorway of light hung in the air between the stones. Ash could see it clearly like a beacon in her mind. She was drawn towards it, the power in its weave calling her. With her mind still ranging the blazing forest, she stepped through the light.

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