The Sleeping Ashes

She stood outside the walls, letting the light and heat flicker off her face. As far as she knew, she was the only one who had escaped, and the screams she heard, whether repeated imaginations or reality testified to that. It seemed ironic she was the one alive, considering the royalty was the intended victim.

The fire burned steadily as she watched. The sight was hypnotizing and she found it hard to look away.

She woke up the next morning to flames in small areas, but mostly charred remains. She did not bother to pick though for useful items: it had been too hot; too powerful. Instead she turned her back on her heritage and the sleeping ashes.