My scar is of little consequence; a squabble with Amalia before I departed. Her blade sought to devour my face, but only bit my ear. It’s one more addition to my many blemishes and craters - I resemble my moon more and more each day: cracked, cold, distant, alone…
Not entirely alone.
Adet suggests I let my hair down to cover the gash. Sweet fool; how am I to battle with a river running down my back? Then again, perhaps I should be free of it. Without my sisters to run their fingers through the knots, it’s beginning to feel more like a nest of snakes than the brush of a willow tree. More a burden than a trophy.
I could rid myself of it on Mars; the scarlet planet. I’ve heard that the sun never sets there, the sands loom taller than the sky, and the air itself sizzles and sparks from the heat. I’ve heard the heat is so intense that it crushes and chokes those who live there.
Those who live there… it can be argued whether you live on Mars, or simply inhabit it. And I’ve heard that its inhabitants are savages.
I’ve heard that massive beasts with scaly backs and horned noses curl and writhe beneath the ground. I’ve heard inky shadows flicker and leap and attack passersby. Great winged monsters dot the sky, swooping down to those below with the force of a hurricane.
And, among all these creatures, a desert rose. The queen; Rosana. Protector of Mars.

She is unlike the other queens: she is a warrior, with the very fire of Mars within her heart. I’ve heard it said that her hair and lips are redder than Mars’s skin, and her smile brighter than the sizzling sparking air. Her skin aglow like bronze: although they say she is more precious than all the gold in the galaxy…
Of course, I’ve no clue how long her hair is… but I doubt she uses it to cover any of her scars, and I’m certain that she wears it as a trophy.

No. A crown.