“Why?... Why do you hate the Mark so much?” She asked, her forehead furrowed. The sun blooms on the horizon, golden petals stretching ever outwards into the rich blue. It was the brilliant flower of the sky that warms this frigid land. It was the invitation to a new day, that sunrise so typical yet Catherine's eyes embrace the sunrise, that iris of fire so pretty in it was a mascara of pristine light.
“Oh, such a sweetheart, do you think I hate him just because my father chooses him to be the Mark? You are mistaken, dear.” He retorted, his mouth set in a hard line, and he gritted his teeth.
“Yes.” She went poker-faced.
“No, little one. He took everything from me.” His eyes burned with resentment. He strode after hearing her brief answer. His eyes slowly opened and looked at her, Catheri
