Kindly edited by @CollinHarrison4
Kelton blew carefully on the kindling, birthing the flint-ignited flames. He added some larger twigs, nursing the fire into adolescence. Daphne, guided by Audria, dropped an armload of thicker branches next to Kelton. He smiled his appreciation, though she failed to respond in kind.
"We will need more," Audria told her. Daphne nodded like mistreated property and went back into the trees.
"She need not work," Kelton whispered.
"She needs the work," Audria argued. "Duties to replace what they have burned in." She followed Daphne as a mother would follow her young.
"We should leave her somewhere," Rolic said with a sliver of anger. "Somewhere safe," he added, realizing his error before Kelton could respond.
"Is there somewhere safe?" Kelton asked. He added a few of Daphne's branches to the fire, generating a steady burn. Rolic did not respond, so Kelton repeated himself, this time accenting it with a deadly stare.
"Nay," Rolic replied, shaking his head. "She should not be near me, is all." Kelton could see both the fear and desire in him.
"She frightens you."
Rolic stood and turned his back on Kelton. It looked as if he meant to walk away, but he did not. "I frighten me," he admitted.
"You are drawn to her?" Kelton asked.
Rolic nodded, his face still hidden.
"You are the first king of Masocrate," Kelton said. He let in his anger, talking to Rolic like he was beneath all others. "And a young girl terrifies you."
Rolic turned. "Do you relish death?"
"Nay," Kelton replied. "Nor do I seek it in others. I will take my turn when it is time."
"The blackness of it is beyond words," Rolic said. "When the light returns, there is a relief that blossoms inside. It reminds me of my mother caring for some ill that had befallen me. It is love, and trust, and closeness and ..." He turned back around, silence filling in what he could not put into words.
"It is the vine," Kelton said. He knew it now. Nothing would end it short of a final death. Rolic was an exception, and still he craved the rule.
"Aye," Rolic agreed. "Though the yellow vine destroys, it does not sustain." There was a pause before he added softly, "it is kinder."
"How can the saying of words do such a thing?" Kelton asked.
"It is not the words; it is the sacrifice with intent," Rolic replied. "I know not why. I only know the Goddess sees fit to grant the daughter's request."
"Gods and Goddesses," Kelton grunted, shaking his head. "To think a deity would desire such a thing ... there is no sense to it. Why not use the power to create what one desires at the start, and not steal from one to give to another?"
"Do we not end the rabbit and eat its meat to see another day?" Rolic countered.
"Aye, as all beasts do," Kelton replied. "I know not the why of the ebbs and flows of beasts and men. It is the pattern of things, one feeding on another until they don't. What I saw breaks the pattern, for all things die as well. Why would a goddess desire to share eternity with a few? Why choose when chance or skill decides all else?"
"Aye, why?" Rolic said. His look and tone irritated Kelton. It was as if Rolic thought himself a teacher forcing his student to discover truths for himself. Daughters were cutting their throats. It was not the time for cryptic discussions. Life was designed as a gamble for all, yet Kelton was to believe the Goddess had chosen some for which sureness was the rule. The Brethren were counter to the rhythm of life, sand that did not shift in the waves. It was as if ...
