Kósmima
“I kill every girl named Selina.”
He clenched his fist, a slight hint of warmth in his hands. He was a Zonculi, born with the power of flames. And he missed the warmth of his powers – he could still feel it in his veins, but it was weak.
The silver-haired girl wondered what this was about, why they were fighting over her, and why the woman would kill every girl named Selina. She regretted every inch of trusting the woman who offered her her umbrella. She should have known not to trust strangers even if she was a woman.
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