She was standing all alone in the clearing as a strong, steady rain came hammering down from the dark, gray sky. Nobody was out today. They were all locked up in their homes, waiting for the storm to pass. Her long black hair hung limp and was plastered across her face. Her clothes, once pristine black cotton and denim, were hopelessly drenched and stuck uncomfortably to her skin.
An involuntary shudder swept through her body as a turbulent wind tore past her, but she didn't seem to care. Her dark eyes were hollow with apathy.
"Do you regret it?"
The voice came from behind. She wasn't startled. She was just numb. "No. You sounds like something from long ago. I can't remember. Do I know you?"
"You used to," came the soft reply. "So... was it worth it? You sold your soul to make a bargain with the witch woman, and gave your heart to save the life of your father. In doing so, you have cut yourself off from me. You can't love, or want, or despair, or delight--you can't even dream. You have nothing to live for."
"Was it worth it?" She pulled a damp lock of her hair off her forehead. "I don't know. Does it matter? Worth it or not, the deed is done."
"Alene. Look at me."
The woman turned, and found herself in the compnay of a slender person with pale, smoky complexion, and tawny golden eyes. There was a faint scent of summer peaches amid the pensive atmosphere.
He--or she--was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.
"Who are you?"
"I am the shadow under the light of love. I am everything and anything your heart burns for, the flame that draws the moth. I am Epithumia. I am Desire."
"Huh. Pleased to meet you too."
Desire appraised her silently. "And what about the man you loved? You were supposed to see him hours ago. He was going to ask for your hand in marriage, but you didn't show up."
"He'll have to understand my reasons." Alene's tone was flat, impassive, devoid of anything but words. "My father needed me."
"Your father was prepared for death," it remarked. "He had lived out his lifetime, and you had not. Your sacrifice has lent him life, but bereaved him of hope. But he doesn't have it in him to kill himself, otherwise your actions would have meant nothing. Don't you understand? In making him live on, you have forced him into a fate worse than death."
"What's your point?"
"I can give you back your heart." Desire's expression was unreadable. "I can make that Thessalian wish for her own demise, and drive your father with enough desire to slice his wrist. And then you can have your heart back, so you can love and want again."
"I don't want anything."
Anger flashed in Desire's catlike eyes, then. "Wretched imbecile. Rejecting my gracious offer like that... Fine. Sometimes, I don't know why I even bother."
Alene blinked, and when she opened her eyes, it had gone without a trace. She shivered as the cold penetrated through her, but she didn't move.
And she just stood there in the rain, waiting for the coldness to end--the
woman who rejected Desire.