Girl of Flame

"The evil Witche placed the burned child on her hand, twisting her around. "My, my, little firefly of the last. Will you watch your ignorant kin suffer, ash child?" The burned child was quiet, her spark only flickering.
"The last of their bones are your soul, little one. More bones, more children of your own, an army of them. Together, we'll march their scorched feet to the ice folk, and obliterate them into melted water. Yes, child, we will." Through the corner of her eye, the burned child watched the flickering shapes of two icicles enter the Witche's cavern, slick and swift.
"And they will die." The Witche's voice took a cold turn, and she grasped the child in her hand. "Show me your secret, little one." The burned girl squeezed her eyes shut at the suffocating sensation, reminding herself of the future, as the icicles retrieved the bone necklace, almost pulling it free...
The burned child, the broken flame barely allowed a smile to touch her ash lips through the pain. The necklace slipped free, and they sped away. The Witche turned around at the sound, right in the direction of her stolen bone necklace.
"No!" she shrieked, racing up. But it was already too late, the icicles were gone.
The burned girl sped up, her flame building, and ran as fast as she could out of the Witche's reach.
And that girl burned free as a flame."

Blanche had already heard that about a million times. The same words, the same tone, the same story. And this time she was sick of it. One day, she ventured too far into the caves-and even before the solstice.
What she found shook her to the bone. A book, long written by someone who'd lived and grown there, someone who'd been a part of the place long before her folk.
When she read the first pages, Blanche learned the betrayal of her own people.
And who she really was.