A party raged around her. It was not the first, and most probably not the last, and yet it felt different somehow. As if it was the start of something that could change her life forever. She chuckled to herself, knowing that the thought was silly. Things like that only happened in fairy tales, and her life was certainly nothing of the sort. Though she did not look, the woman could feel the judging eyes on her, knowing that she should not have made a sound. After all, it was not what a good slave did.
Her eyes caught sight of the silver bands around her wrists, heavy in more ways than one. It was so strange how they were all here to see her, and yet she could be treated as though she should be grateful for their presence instead of the opposite. The woman knew that most were here out of curiosity. Having heard of the slave who danced at each party her master held. She flinched, knowing that it was more than her talent that caused them to come.
One of her hands made its way to the strands of hair that hung loosely in her face. It was the unusual color, bright red, that drew all these people to the party. Her master would say that it was his popularity, but that wasn't true. The guests had come because they wanted to see the devil girl themselves. For obviously, it could have been no other creature that had adorned her with her unnatural hair.
It was time. She raised her clasped hands to the sky, and stood on her toes, praying. She didn't care who or what they thought she was praying for, it didn't matter. Instead, she wished for beauty and grace in her performance. And as the music began and she stepped into her first dance of the night, one last prayer crossed her mind. Ignia wished to be free.