Salamander realm

A picture...

I know. It's all wrong. By rights we shouldn't even be here. But we are. It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn't want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn't. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something.

What are we holding on to Sam?

That there's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo... and it's worth fighting for.

"How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on, when in your heart you begin to understand there *is* no going back? There are some things time cannot mend. Some hurts that go too deep... and take hold."

Thud thud... A stone to a stone, a heart to a heart.
a light from the shadow shall spring
And so she was born - the first salamander of fire. Fer hazel eyes carried the flame of the stars. Between the sparks in the dark she felt the life fill her veins.

And so they wandered in the world, sleeping in fireplaces of warm homes, in candle flames or in the fires of rangers and gipsys. They lived with the fire in a shape of flaming lizard or a girl, carying heat in her eyes and in the silver necklase with a spark of her native fire.
A salamader lives till burns the fire, she was born in.