Riding the Mechanical Dragon

The moment the shrill shriek of steam woke her, she knew. Belen Beltran’s heart pounded against her chest. Her eyes popped open. Her quest had begun.

Bel sat up and took in her surroundings. She rubbed at her neck, where she had been lying at a strange angle. Her seat rocked rhythmically in time with a loud rattling. She was on a train car. Of course. Even though she had no memory of leaving her bed, she knew that the quest always took place on a train.

The lights were dim, making it difficult to see the compartment in any detail. The seats were plush. To her left was a door and to her right a window. Across from her was a mirror to her own seat.

The train whistled again, and Bel shot to her feet. Fully awake now, she scanned the compartment more carefully. There. On the opposite seat sat an object, barely visible in the gloom. She reached down and picked it up. It was a small, wooden sphere. The wood was smooth and oddly warm in her hand, as though it was alive.

This was it. Get the sphere to the conductor. Other than that, Bel had no idea what lay beyond the door. On a random day every year, every 15 year old in her country woke up on a train. It was forbidden to give more information to anyone before their turn. They called it riding the mechanical dragon, and said that the health of their society rested on this rite of passage.

A faint glow filtered out from under the door. Bel slipped the ball into her pants pocket, took a deep breath, and slid it open. Beyond was a darkened hallway. She stepped into it, looking for the source of the light. Nerves gathered in her throat, reminding her of her brothers that had faced this test before her. She swallowed down her fear. They had come back. So would she.

There, at the end of the hall. Another door. Yellow light glowed through a frosted glass pane. Passing more doors on her left, Bel approached the light. She opened the door.

Outside, the night roared. Sparks flew from the tracks below. Wind whipped her hair and her clothes around her. Across a narrow gap between platforms was another door. Its window blazed with light.

Bel jumped to the other platform. She landed solidly, and grabbed the rail for stability. Her vision sharpened and her breath quickened with the adrenaline.

When she opened the new door, her first thought was that the room inside smelled like home. She closed the door behind her, squinting to see in the bright compartment light. It was an opulent dining car, red-carpeted and wood-paneled. To the left were cushioned benches and elaborately-set tables with white tablecloths. To her right was a curved wooden bar set with a mouthwatering array of baked confections.

Cushion-topped stools lined the bar, and sitting atop one of them was a pudgy boy about her age. Even as he stared at her, he stuffed another bite into his mouth. On the plate was what looked like her father’s signature almond cake. As she ran her gaze over the treats on the bar, she recognized all of them as his work. Interspersed among the dishes were vases full of the same flowers that filled her mother’s greenhouse.

Bel’s skin prickled. Was this part of the quest?

“Um, excuse me,” she said, approaching the boy on the stool.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hi,” said Bel. “Um, did you see anyone else here?”

The boy shook his head. His mouth was full, so he pointed to a hand-lettered sign hung over the bar next to a picture of her family. Bel immediately recognized her mother’s tidy script.

WE REGRET TO ANNOUNCE THAT THE ENTIRE BELTRÁN FAMILY HAS BEEN DEPORTED. TAKE THIS FEAST AS OUR GOODBYE. PLEASE COME VISIT US IN NEW ARGENTINA! WE AT THE GREENHOUSE WILL MISS YOU ALL.

“No,” said Bel, her voice small from shock. Disbelief and grief both pressed in on her heart. She shook. They couldn’t just be gone. Not without her. Countless whispered conversations between her parents echoed in her ears, worries that she was never supposed to hear.

“No,” she repeated, sinking onto a stool. She had forgotten the quest entirely. “It can’t be.”

“Hey, what’s wrong?” She looked dully at the hand on her shoulder for a moment, before following it up to see the boy regarding her with concerned brown eyes.

“It’s my family,” she told him blankly. “They’re gone.”

“Oh,” said the boy. “That sign - is that them?”

Bel nodded, tears welling in her eyes. “And the food, the flowers…that’s definitely theirs, too.”

“Your mum is an amazing baker,” said the boy. He shook his head. “Sorry. That’s not the point, is it?”

“I think my family getting deported and leaving me behind is the point,” retorted Bel. How could this boy be thinking about food when she had just lost her family?

“You know, I don’t think it is the point,” said the boy. Bel looked up, startled.

“What do you mean?”

“I think it’s part of the quest,” he said. “No, really,” he continued, reading her expression. “Listen, is your family getting deported something that you worry about a lot?”

“Yes.”

“I think I get it,” continued the boy. He spoke slowly, as though thinking out loud. “You see, I eat too much and it’s hard for me to stop. I worry about that a lot. So I walk in here and there’s this free feast. And then it turns out that it was left for you by your deported family…doesn’t that seem like an awfully big coincidence?”

“Are you saying that the quest is designed specifically for each of us?”

“Must be.”

A wave of relief washed over Bel, clearing the anxiety in her chest.

“Anything’s possible when you ride the mechanical dragon,” she said.

“Exactly,” said the boy.

They had all grown up hearing that phrase. What would her parents be doing on the train anyway? Or her brothers? She sucked air into her lungs, like she hadn’t breathed properly for a week.

"Ok,” she said. “I think you're right. Thanks for helping me see that.”

“Yeah, sure,” said the boy. “Thank you - I mean, if you hadn’t shown up I’d still be sitting here pigging out.”

“Understandable,” said Bel. “My dad’s baking is the best.”

The boy returned her smile. “Well, we should probably keep going.” He slid off his stool and offered her his hand. “My name’s Oscar. What’s yours?”

“Belen - Bel,” she replied. She took one more shaky breath and shook his outstretched hand. “Ok. Let’s do this.”

~

“What in the world?”

Bel and Oscar stood in what looked like a very disorganized mad scientist’s laboratory. A series of half-built creatures littered several rusty tables. Colored liquid dripped and bubbled through a mysterious collection of glass beakers and tubes. One wall was lined with grandfather clocks that ticked eerily in unison. Low-hanging struts and pipes obstructed the passage all along the compartment, some of them leaking steam.

“I don’t like this place,” said Oscar. He stood with his back against the door.

“It is kinda creepy,” agreed Bel, though she was more fascinated than scared.

Oscar’s wide eyes were darting here and there around the room, and his breathing had accelerated. “This room is part of your quest, isn’t it?” she asked.

Oscar nodded.

“You don’t have to go alone. I’ve got you.” Bel held out her hand. Oscar took it.

They started to move through the car. A pipe let off steam just as they ducked underneath it. Oscar yelled and hit his head.

“Careful!” said Bel, pulling him forward.

They were halfway through the car when they heard the first clang. It rang through the room more clearly than seemed possible with all the hissing and whirring and the rattling of the train.

Oscar froze.

The clang came again. Then again. Growing closer. Footsteps.

“Run!” yelled Bel. The two of them took off, dashing and dodging through the cluttered car. The clanging grew louder and faster. The footsteps were following them.

A mechanical cat fell off a table in front of them, landing in their path. It hissed steam. Oscar tried to stop, but Bel pulled him forward. They jumped over the creature.

They were at the door. Bel pulled at the handle. It was locked.

“Open it! Open it!” Shouted Oscar.

Bel dashed back to the workbench, where she spotted a thin piece of wire amidst all the other junk. Perfect.

“Oh no oh no oh no!” Oscar was moaning, wrenching at the door handle.

“Shut up and move over,” said Bel.

Oscar moved, but continued to whimper as the footsteps got louder. Bel knelt down and inserted the metal into the lock.

“Come on, come on,” she muttered, wiggling the metal around. She wished she could remember with any precision how this worked. Her brothers’ perfunctory lessons seemed years ago now.

“He’s coming! Bel, hurry!” wailed Oscar.

Bel told herself to breathe, and tried to focus on the lock rather than the clanging footsteps ringing in her ears.

The lock clicked. Bel yanked the door open and pulled Oscar through. She caught sight of something huge, with brass goggles for eyes and teeth that glinted in a way they shouldn’t. The door shut. Something heavy slammed into the other side.

“Quick! Jump!” Bel landed on the far platform and held out a hand to Oscar. He took it and joined her. They hurled themselves through the door, closed it behind them and stood, panting, on the other side.

“What was that?” asked Bel.

“My father,” said Oscar. “Only worse. That’s how I imagine him in my nightmares."

“I’m so sorry, Oscar,” said Bel. She hugged him. Oscar clung to her. She could feel him shaking.

Finally, he let go. “Thanks,” he said, sniffing and wiping his nose on his coat sleeve.

Bel didn’t answer. She was staring at the room ahead of them. It had arched glass ceilings now letting in the first traces of the sunrise. The room was filled with plants and flowers. Birds chirped. Down the center of the compartment was a row of grand pianos, all white but for the black keys.

“Whoah,” said Oscar.

Bel walked forward into the compartment. She reached out and stroked a finger over a sunflower’s soft petal.

“What is this place?” asked Oscar.

“It’s like they moved my mother’s greenhouse onto the train,” said Bel. “And added pianos, for some reason.”

“It’s amazing,” said Oscar. Bel moved further into the car, entranced. There was a bench by a small pond. Above it arched a white lattice wound with fragrant jasmine. She sat and closed her eyes.

She heard the trickle of water from a fountain that fed the pond. She heard Oscar poking at piano keys. The scent of jasmine washed over her, and suddenly she was home.

Her mother’s greenhouse was different, of course. In the urban jumble, there wasn’t room to have one laid out flat like this. So her father had engineered it to move in vertical space, so that windows and prisms gave each plant exactly the amount of sunlight it needed. The space was light, airy, beautiful, and complex. Some of Bel’s happiest memories were of scrambling from platform to platform to help her mother tend the plants.

“Hey, Bel - come look at this.” Bel didn’t want to let go of this feeling. She cracked an eye open and peered towards Oscar’s voice. At the far end of the car, he stood amongst several racks of clothes. He held up a fancy waistcoat, looking at it with reverence. Intrigued, Bel stood up and walked over to the clothes.

“Try it on,” she prompted.

Oscar’s smile was small, but bright. He discarded his grubby, baggy old coat, dropping it unceremoniously on the floor. The waistcoat fit him perfectly.

“You look amazing, Oscar!”

Oscar looked down at himself, then back up at Bel, grinning. “I feel amazing!” he said. “What about you?”

Bel looked around the fancy clothes dubiously. She didn’t really like the long skirts and corsets that were the fashion nowadays. She preferred flexible leggings and a loose shirt, clothes that allowed her to move. Plus, she felt clumsy and awkward in those clothes, much too tall and muscular.

“What about this?” Bel gasped. Oscar held the most beautiful coat she had ever seen. It was a deep brown with white details stitched into the bodice and flared at the waist to create a skirt behind the legs.

“Go on, try it!” The fabric draped over her like a hug. Laces in the back cinched it tight. But it didn’t restrict her breath or impede her legs.

“I love it,” said Bel, looking down at herself.

“Do you feel ready to take on the rest of the quest?” asked Oscar. Even his smile had changed. It now filled more of his face, revealing a dimple in one dark cheek.

“Bring it on!”

~

The next compartment held a ballroom far larger than it had any right to be. The wooden floor glowed with the light of the rising sun. A full orchestra played big band music, to which couples danced with unabashed vigor. People milled and mingled around the edges of the dance floor.

Bel and Oscar stood watching, marveling at the spins and quick footwork, the playfulness and daring of the dancers as they kicked their feet and jumped into gravity-defying lifts and tricks. The bright colors they wore gave the feeling of flowers blown about in a jubilant wind.

Finally they shook themselves free of the mesmerizing sight. Bel took the lead. She grabbed Oscar’s hand so she wouldn’t lose him in the throng, and they took off around the dance floor.

They had made it to the other side when several things happened in very quick succession. Bel spotted a girl dancing solo. Somehow, she alone was able to do just as much as any of the couples. Her movements were athletic and graceful, perfectly matching the music. As Bel paused to watch, the girl looked up and met Bel’s eyes. The band stopped playing. The girl stopped dancing. Remnants of music seemed to gather like light in the girl’s thick, dark gold hair, and her blue-green eyes crinkled as she smiled.

Suddenly, Bel and Oscar were surrounded by a mob of giggling girls.

“Ooooh, Bel, is that your boyfriend?” said one, a popular girl from Bel’s school. Bel thought her name might be Lacey.

Bel hurriedly dropped Oscar’s hand.

“Like them fat, do you?” taunted another girl. Bel looked around to see who had spoken, and immediately felt guilt heat her cheeks as she caught sight of Oscar’s devastated expression.

“I’d drop his hand, too. Who’d want to be seen with him?”

“No, it’s not that,” Bel said, trying to explain to everyone at once, and certain that she was reaching no one. “It’s just -”

“Bel and Oscar sitting in a tree,” taunted the girls. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”

“No, Oscar, it’s just -”

Oscar was backing away from her, tears on his cheeks.

“Aren’t they cute? The weirdo and the gordito.”

Bel looked around for help, and her gaze fell on the girl from the dance floor. She was no longer smiling, in contrast to the merry, laughing faces that surrounded her and Oscar. Even in the midst of this hell, Bel thought that this girl was more beautiful than any of the others. She could have danced with any of the boys. Yet she had been dancing alone. And she was looking directly at her.

“Are you really that desperate?”

“What a crybaby!”

The girl approached and nodded over Lacey’s shoulder. Bel finally understood.

“It’s just that I don’t want a boyfriend!” she shouted.

There was a moment of shocked silence. Then the crowd of girls disappeared just as abruptly as they had arrived. The band struck up again.

The girl walked the remaining distance to Bel. She wore a simple white skirt and corset with brown detailing on the bodice.

“I bet those girls will never make it out of here,” she said with a smirk. “You will, though. What’s your name? And who’s your friend?”

Bel glanced hurriedly over her shoulder. To her relief, Oscar was still there. His face was still tear-stained, but he looked much calmer. Bel held out a hand to him. Oscar smiled, and came close enough to take it.

“This is Oscar,” she said, squeezing his hand. “And I’m Belen - Bel. What’s your name?”

“Hello Bel. I’m Amanda.” Bel let go of Oscar’s hand so she could shake Amanda’s. “And for the record, I don’t want a boyfriend either,” she added.

Amanda’s fingers tingled against Bel’s skin, soft and cool. They lingered for just a moment too long, as did her eyes. Then she released Bel and introduced herself to Oscar.

“Hi,” said Oscar, a little shyly. For a moment, Bel wondered with a pang if he was feeling the same way she was about Amanda. But then he added, “And I kinda do want a boyfriend.”

Amanda grinned. “I knew I got stuck here for a reason. We should all stay together, don't you think?”

Bel and Oscar agreed.

Amanda took Bel’s hand with a wink. “Do you want to dance before we get going?”

For a moment, Bel’s imagination took her to the dance floor, leading this beautiful creature into acrobatic lifts and graceful dips. She felt Amanda’s long hair flick across her neck as she spun. She held Amanda in her arms in her mind and wished she could dance through this daydream forever.

An elbow to her ribs brought Bel back. “Where’d you go?” asked Oscar, with a knowing expression.

Bel blushed. “Sorry,” she said, looking at the floor. She felt large and awkward in her skin, completely incapable of anything as coordinated as dancing. “I, um. I don’t know how to dance,” she told her shoes.

“Next time, then,” said Amanda. “You’ll have plenty of time to learn once we finish the quest.”

Bel looked into Amanda’s eyes, and smiled, feeling a shy warmth brewing in her belly. After the quest. “I’d like that.”

“Come on,” said Amanda. “Let’s keep going.”

Bel found she couldn’t continue to meet Amanda’s steady eyes. So she looked back and offered her free hand to Oscar. He took it, and Amanda led the way to the next compartment.

~

The three of them moved through several compartments without incident.

A room full of cages, where creatures rustled and growled in the dim light from small windows. Some were clockwork, others real.

A room made of platforms of all different levels, moving up and down past one another, gears clanking and whirring in the walls. Bel enjoyed this room; it reminded her of the greenhouse, and she helped Oscar and Amanda to navigate it safely.

A room draped in colorful shawls, with cushions strewn across the floor. An old woman draped in so many shawls she nearly blended in with the surroundings offered to tell their fortunes. A crystal ball gleamed before her. Amanda looked tempted, until Oscar reminded them of their quest. They politely declined and walked on.

~

Bel knew something was different when they entered the next compartment. It looked like the one where she had woken up, except that gas lamps lit the hallway. There were no windows. She shivered.

“What’s wrong?” asked Oscar.

“I’m not sure,” said Bel. “Let’s just be cautious.”

The three moved forward quietly, taking in the faded carpet and the scuffed wood of the doors.

“Amanda?” came a musical voice from within one of the compartments.

Amanda began to shake. “No,” she whispered. “She can’t be here.” Bel took her hand and squeezed it. It was strange to see Amanda’s confident veneer waver.

“Amanda, darling. Come and give your mother a kiss.”

The door directly to their left slid open. Inside, Bel saw a kitchen. It was humble, but well-tended. A fire burned in the stove. A teapot began to whistle.

At the table sat a woman who was clearly Amanda’s mother. Her dark gold hair was gathered in a loose bun at the back of her head. She wore an apron and her hands were covered in flour.

“What are you waiting for, Amanda? Take the kettle off and pour your friends some tea. Come, introduce us!”

Oscar took a step towards the woman. Amanda put a hand out to stop him.

“No,” she told him. “Don’t be fooled. She’s not nearly as nice as she pretends to be.”

“Look at what she’s baking,” whispered Bel. The woman had rolled out a neat pie shell and was filling it with human fingers.

Oscar started back and ran into the wall behind him. The kettle’s shriek joined with the train’s.

“Amanda, don’t keep your mother waiting! You know what happens when mother is angry,” said the woman. Her voice lost its light, singsong tone and dropped to a deeper, more menacing timbre.

Bel, who still held Amanda’s hand, could feel her shaking. She stepped in front of her.

“Leave her alone!” she shouted, slamming the door behind her.

“Amanda!” yelled the woman. Her voice had become a guttural roar. “Get in here you ungrateful piece of shit!”

“Let’s go,” said Oscar. He grabbed Amanda’s free hand, and they towed her through the hall to the next car. All the while, chased by the woman’s screams.

They stepped into darkness. For a moment, they stood there, aware only of the train’s movement and their own ragged breathing.

“I hate her,” said Amanda. “I don’t want to go back.”

Bel hugged her. “Come stay at my place,” she said. “I’ll show you the flowers.”

Amanda let out a huge, shaky sigh. “I’d like that.”

Ahead of them, a spotlight turned on. Below it was a single mirror in an ornate silver frame. Bel felt the mirror call to her. It was her turn to start shaking. She knew that she must face the mirror, but did not wish to see what it contained.

“Come on,” said Amanda, tugging on Bel’s hand.

“Bel, is this one yours?” asked Oscar. Bel nodded. Her knees wobbled and her mouth had gone dry.

Amanda squeezed her hand. “It’s ok,” she said. “You’ve got us.”

Bel took a deep breath and started to walk towards the mirror. As she walked, she watched her reflection distort. Her legs elongated. Her shoulders and hips widened. Her face narrowed. Her skin too pale, her hair and eyes too dark. By the time she reached the mirror, she was staring at a grotesque caricature of herself.

“Look at you. You’re hideous,” came a voice from the shadows. “Giant. Strange. Different. Who could love something that looks like that?”

Bel tried to look away, to cover her ears, but her body was frozen in place.

“You’re not real,” she whispered, trying with all her might to believe it.

“Am I not?” said the voice, chuckling. The sound morphed, became the laughter of the girls that made fun of her at school.

“Leave her alone!” said Oscar. “You’re just part of the stupid quest. So leave her alone and let us move on!”

A figure appeared, reflected in the mirror, emerging out of the shadows. Light glinted off goggles and metallic teeth. “Who are you to stand up to me?” said the figure. The voice was different this time, masculine and cold.

“D-dad,” sputtered Oscar, backing away. “I -I’m sorry.”

“No, Oscar - you tell him!” said Amanda. “He’s not afraid of you anymore!” she shouted at the figure.

The figure raised its fists and began to laugh. “Isn’t he?”

Bel felt Oscar cowering against her back, watched as the figure approached. She was still frozen, helpless to intervene.

But then Oscar straightened up. “No,” he said. In the mirror, she watched him adjust his new waistcoat. “No, Amanda’s right. I’m not afraid of you anymore. You’re not going to hurt my friends. I’m not going to let you hurt anyone anymore.”

The figure roared and swung at Oscar. Bel wanted to scream, to push him out of the way. She didn’t have to. Oscar dodged and swept the figure’s legs out from under it. It exploded as it fell, dissolving into tiny pieces of confetti.

“Holy shit! I just did that!” said Oscar.

But the confetti drifted and reformed, becoming Amanda’s mother. “And you,” she sneered at Amanda. “You’re just as bad, just as hideous. You’ll never amount to anything if you continue on like this.”

“You’re wrong,” said Oscar. “You’re just bitter because you’ll never be as cool as her.”

Amanda’s mother let out a great guffaw. “Do you need the likes of him to defend you now?”

“No, I don’t,” said Amanda. She stepped in front of Oscar. “And I’m done letting you torment me. I know my own worth, and you can never take that away from me again.” Amanda took a deep breath, and let it out in a gust. The air dissolved her mother once more into confetti. This time, it drifted harmlessly to the floor.

Bel wanted to cheer, but her eyes were drawn back to her own distorted image. It held her there, magnetic in its hideousness.

“Belen,” said Amanda. Standing beside her, Amanda looked even more perfect and petite in contrast. That slim figure, that beautiful hair, those graceful limbs.

“Bel, I want you to listen to me. I’m going to tell you what I see when I look at you in the mirror. I want you to see her too.”

As Amanda spoke, Bel’s reflection began to change. Slowly at first, shivering like disturbed water. She could feel the resistance, knew that her mirror image did not wish to relinquish its hold on her. But she wanted so badly to see herself through Amanda’s eyes.

“I see a woman, not a girl. I see someone strong and capable. I see someone who knows who she is and has a family that loves her and that she loves. I see kindness and intelligence. I see someone who was able to effortlessly help her friends through a complex obstacle course.”

The ripples became waves. The distortions receded.

“I see long legs and strong arms and an absolutely gorgeous face. That coat makes you look totally badass, by the way. I came over to you on that dance floor because you stand out. And you stand out because you’re beautiful.”

When her new friend stopped speaking, when the mirror smoothed again, Bel found herself free to move, looking at a version of herself she had never imagined. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying, but she looked like a normal girl, not a monster.

“Oh,” was all she could manage. Amanda just hugged her, and Bel hugged back. A second later, Oscar glommed onto the two of them. And then all three of them were crying and laughing and jumping up and down, elated and vulnerable and raw.

“Look,” said Oscar.

Another spotlight had ignited, illuminating a door. On the door was written ‘Conductor.’

Bel turned to look at her friends, her eyes wide. “Does that mean?”

“I think so,” said Amanda. “Let’s go!”

The train gave a celebratory whistle as they crossed into the last compartment.

Inside, it was hot, noisy, and cramped. Coal dust coated the floor from an enormous container against one wall. A monstrous metal square with tubes and wires and gears poking out of it vibrated against the far wall. In front of it stood a man holding a shovel.

He looked fairly ordinary, dressed in overalls and a grimy shirt. His weathered face was difficult to place. Was his skin dark or just covered in coal dust? His hair was covered by a flat cap, and his eyes hid behind goggles. He did not smile. Just pointed to the round hole that opened to the glowing orange heart of the train.

“Throw your spheres in the furnace and you’ll be done.” he said.

They all exchanged confused looks. “That’s it?” said Oscar.

“But why?” asked Amanda.

“You have faced challenges and temptations on your quest,” said the conductor, as though reading from a piece of paper. “ You have overcome them all. Everything you have experienced, all the pain, is held in your sphere. Burning the sphere ends the quest.”

“And then what?” asked Oscar. “Will we be able to go back together?”

“No” said the conductor. “You will each go back to your individual lives.”

The three turned to face each other. “I’m certain I can find you,” Oscar said to Bel. “I’ll just look for the greenhouse.”

“Ditto,” said Amanda. “But you know how to find us, too.”

Bel thought about all they had shared, all the little moments in between adventures, and nodded. “Yeah, ok. I’ll see you at home.”

The three of them embraced.

“I’ll go first,” said Oscar. He walked forward and turned to face them. “Thanks for everything,” he said. “Bye.” And he dropped his ball into the glowing orange of the furnace. As the ball disappeared into the flames, Oscar faded out of the room.

Amanda stood on her toes and kissed Bel on the lips. “See you later!” she said brightly, before she could react, then skipped forward and dropped her ball into the furnace. She faded out smiling at Bel.

“Well?” said the conductor, looking at Bel. “It’s your turn.”

Bel thought about everything she had faced. The sphere still felt warm and alive in her hand, even more than when she had first held it. It had been filled with so many things she didn’t mind getting rid of. She walked forward and tossed it into the flames. She felt the fire, intense but not hot, burning away everything that held her back.