Seville woke up on her "birthday" for the 32nd time, and didn't anticipate it. For years Willation and Sheratan, her only company in the world, had vanished every anniversary of her birth. 33 years ago this day, she had come into existence, and no one would be there—again—to let her know they cared. Of course, she only expected such; no one had time for her. She wondered for a moment why life mattered to anyone if everyone lived like this.The sun glared through her cave window, shining right in her eyes. She winced, and her eyes slammed shut. She backed away, scooted across the rock until the vicious light departed. She could feel the blood rushing to her face, combating the awful sting. Her eyes watered as she slipped the lids back over them; she leaned back against the stone.Another day alone. Another day of pain, of an indescribable burning against her skin every waking moment and an excruciating pulse of fire while she slept.But she had grown used to it.Somehow it still felt wrong.Willation and Sheratan should have come back at midnight, but they did not return. Seville waited for months, watched at the cave mouth for them to come back. But no sign of a black dragon in the distant fog below their mountain. She heard nothing, she saw nothing. She needed no rest or food for sustenance, but slept and ate often regardless. She had little more to do with her time, besides read and write like she loved to do. But even so she grew restless; she grew worried.