AUTHOR’S NOTE & DEDICATION
492 Words
For She Who Was Born of Silence and Rose With Fire
Written by Ashferanida Herman
Cirella Devienne is not merely a character.
She is a memory, a warning, a vow in flesh and bone.
She was never created to be understood—she was written to be felt.
Every breath she takes echoes the stillness of a ruined throne.
Every glance she casts is a weapon honed in quiet agony.
She is not your heroine.
She is the girl who was forgotten—until the day she refused to be.
I wrote her because I needed her.
Because the world does not always reward the strong, the silent, the sorrowful.
Because I wanted to create a woman who did not need saving,
but who still—still—longed to be seen.
Cirella is the girl who watched her childhood burn and rose from the ashes uninvited.
She speaks in few words, but every movement she makes tells a story:
Of pain swallowed like winter air.
Of rage coiled beneath the grace of her spine.
Of power that does not scream—it waits.
And when it awakens, the world remembers her name.
She is both blade and bloom.
She is both fury and silence.
She is both death and devotion.
This story was never about triumph.
It was always about survival.
About what happens when a girl dares to keep breathing in a world that keeps trying to bury her.
And not just breathing—fighting. Leading. Loving.
And oh, how she loves.
To love as Cirella loves is to peel back your armor and bare your wounds without apology.
To love not in submission, but in equality.
And that is where Virein Thalenor enters—not as a savior, but as a mirror.
He does not complete her. He reflects her.
And when the light strikes them both, they are undeniable.
He is not the prince who rescues the princess.
He is the vow that meets her blade.
The warmth that touches her ice and does not flinch.
The one who stands behind her, not above her—
and in doing so, proves his strength.
This book is for the ones who rise alone,
but secretly ache for someone to stand beside them.
For the women who build empires from ashes and dare to laugh again.
For the men who see a wildfire and say,
“Let me walk with you through the flames.”
To those who have lost and kept going.
To those who have loved and been left.
To those who bear their scars not as shame—but as proof—
Cirella Devienne is yours.
May her silence be your sword.
May her vow be your flame.
May her legacy live in every heartbeat that refuses to break.
⸻
Dedicated to the forgotten girls,
the dangerous women,
and the men who saw them clearly—
and stayed.
With fire, silence, and eternal love,
—Ashferanida Herman
- Writer
