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In a town where shadows dance with the night,
There lived a girl with eyes that shone bright.
Her name was whispered in corners and halls,
A mystery wrapped in midnight's dark thralls.

They called her the wanted, the one sought by all,
A specter in moonlight, elusive and tall.
Through streets of whispers and alleyways old,
Her legend grew, more vibrant and bold.

Born of twilight and morning's first dew,
Her past was a tapestry, a woven, obscure view.
They said she came from lands far away,
Where mountains kiss skies and rivers hold sway.

Her hair was like starlight, a cascade of dreams,
Her voice like the river's gentle, hushed streams.
She moved like a phantom, unseen and unheard,
A wisp of the wind, a fluttering bird.

Her laughter, a melody that haunted the breeze,
It danced with the leaves, it played with the trees.
Yet none could capture her, none held her tight,
She was the dream that vanished with night.

Legends spoke of her heart, pure as the snow,
Of secrets she held, of truths we don't know.
They said she could heal, with just a touch,
That her presence alone was more than enough.

Men of power, and those broken with strife,
All sought her out, yearning for life.
For she was the answer to prayers unspoken,
A healer of wounds, a mender of tokens.

She walked through the villages, silent and calm,
Leaving behind her a trail of sweet balm.
Those who were ailing, whose hopes had decayed,
Found solace and peace in the paths she had laid.

One stormy night, as thunder roared wild,
A child lay dying, fever's dark child.
Her mother, in sorrow, called out in pain,
Begging the heavens, crying in vain.

The wanted girl, in shadows concealed,
Stepped forth in moonlight, her power revealed.
With a hand cool as winter, she touched the child's brow,
And the fever retreated, leaving life to endow.

The villagers watched, their breath held in awe,
As the child awoke, without flaw.
Gratitude poured from hearts and lips,
Yet she vanished again, like the moon in eclipse.

Her fame grew far, beyond valleys and seas,
Her name became legend, carried on breeze.
Kingdoms and empires, in whispers and tales,
Spoke of the maiden, in towers and dales.

Yet with fame came hunters, with greed and desire,
Their hearts full of darkness, their eyes full of fire.
They sought her not for her gentle grace,
But for power, and the mysteries she might embrace.

Through forests and mountains, they searched night and day,
Driven by ambition, by the hunt's fierce array.
But the wanted girl was clever and wise,
She danced through their traps, unseen by their eyes.

In one such kingdom, a ruler so vain,
Sent forth his armies, through snow and through rain.
He wished to possess her, to bind her in gold,
To use her for power, to have and to hold.

The girl, in her wisdom, knew of his plan,
She fled to the deserts, away from his clan.
Through sands of time and endless sun's glare,
She wandered alone, like a breath of fresh air.

Yet in her heart, a sadness grew deep,
For all that she touched, she could not keep.
Her life was a journey, of fleeting embraces,
Of moments, of whispers, of forgotten faces.

One evening, as dusk painted the sky,
She met a young man, with a curious eye.
He spoke not of riches, nor of her fame,
He asked of her journey, he asked of her name.

They walked through the night, in silence profound,
Finding solace in the quiet, in the absence of sound.
In his eyes, she saw a reflection of her own,
A soul seeking purpose, a heart not yet known.

He was not a hunter, nor a seeker of might,
He was simply a wanderer, lost in the night.
They shared their stories, their dreams and their fears,
Finding comfort in each other's tears.

Days turned to weeks, as they traveled as one,
Through valleys and rivers, under moon and sun.
In his presence, she found a peace so rare,
A bond so gentle, beyond compare.

Yet the world, in its hunger, could not let her be,
For her gift was a beacon, for all to see.
One fateful morning, as dawn kissed the earth,
The king's men found her, despite all her worth.

They captured her swiftly, her friend fought in vain,
Bound by their greed, their cold, iron chain.
They took her to the palace, to the throne of deceit,
Where the king awaited, on his gilded seat.

He looked at her with eyes of dark desire,
His heart a hollow, his soul on fire.
"You are mine now," he proclaimed with a sneer,
"Your power shall serve me, your fate is here."

But the wanted girl, with her spirit untamed,
Refused to be broken, refused to be claimed.
With a whisper of magic, with a flicker of light,
She summoned her strength, she readied for fight.

The palace shook, with her power unleashed,
The chains fell away, the guards were beseeched.
She stood tall, a beacon of pure, white flame,
A force of nature, no man could tame.

The king, in his terror, begged for reprieve,
But the girl had a lesson, for him to receive.
"Power," she said, "is not to be owned,
It is a gift, a blessing, to be honed."

With a wave of her hand, she vanished from sight,
Leaving the king in his palace of night.
She returned to her wanderer, her heart full of grace,
For she had found her home, in his loving embrace.

Together they journeyed, through life's winding way,
Finding beauty in the night, and peace in the day.
For the wanted girl, no longer alone,
Had found in the wanderer, her heart's true home.

And so the legend of the wanted girl,
Lives on in hearts, like a precious pearl.
A story of love, of courage and might,
A beacon of hope, in the darkest of night.

For in a world where shadows may fall,
There is a light, within us all.
A tale of the wanted, the seeker, the free,
A story of what it means to truly be.
© ashh