'Agni Pariksha' is from the Sanskrit meaning 'test of fire.'

"A great flame follows a little spark."
--Dante Aligheri, "The Divine Comedy."

"But true love is a durable fire,
In the mind ever burning,
Never sick, never old, never dead,
From itself never turning."
--Sir Walter Raleigh.

The cold chill of indifference in their eyes is nothing new. It is a change from the hatred, but not a surprise...not unexpected. She knows them now. Their every move, their every thought. Even before they know it themselves, she sees it in the hesitant curl of a lip...the twitch of a cheek muscle...the rhythmic up-and-down motion of an Adam's apple.

They are too weak to tell her to leave. Too weak to tell her to stay.

They are weak.

They are predictable.

They are unremarkable.

They are human.

All of them. No matter what their chromosomes say.

And all of them look past her. Around her. Over her.

They cannot meet her gaze. They cannot look beneath her skin.

Not a single one sees what she sees in the mirror.

More's the pity.

For she is beautiful.

She is the very center of the inferno.

The blue burn. The red heat. The orange tongues that lick and soothe.

Incineration.

She is enveloped in flames of her own making and she burns hot and slow. Her body writhes, riding the fire, and her eyes remain wide open. The widest they've ever been. Seeing everything and nothing in perfect clarity for the first time.

Her hands hover over the curves of her thighs, the ripe circles of her breasts, and every expanse of flesh that had previously failed to tantalize her mate now calls out like a Siren to the truth of love. To the truth that crackles and hisses and sparks as it touches her lips, as it swallows the words "I love you."

Her eyes focus on the steam-covered mirror and she smiles.

The truth of love is simple.

It is Self.

It is Tess.