The Inferno

Flames licked her legs through her skirts. The house was engulfed; collapsing timbers shook the entire structure. Her vision shimmered from the heat as she searched. Rosalyn’s calls to the child were stifled by the intensity of the crackling and the building’s shifting groans. She had dumped the bucket of water over herself before entering, but the only water remaining in her clothes now was her own sweat. Why had the child fled from her? Had she seen something? Did she know something of Rosalyn’s role in the Prince’s death? Why would the rift-cursed waif run into a burning building?