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Those rings flooded the markets, all made by trafficked children, every cent of the profit going into the pocket of some emotionally indifferent evil human-zombie.

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The stones in the ring had been rescued and reset into the most stunning engagement ring, it was new and old, recycled and one of a kind. It was perfect.

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The ring was ornately blackened by age the way antique silver does, it was as pretty as a copper patina, especially when viewed as a whole with the blue stone.

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The Celtics were blessings to the peoples they lived among, peacemakers by nature. And so, Kirsten wore her Celtic knot ring with pride. It was part of her heritage, part of who she was - these long ago ancestors before the modern nations were born.

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The ring had been Aunt Sarah's, and now it kept her company in every joy and struggle of this world. It was as if that motherly love stayed with her, that even though she wasn't her child... she was. Love is love and that ring was a symbol of that eternal truth.

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The ring white gold and all the more beautiful for such simplicity.

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The ring was Celtic, the strands of the trinity making the eternal knot.

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There were five white-gold rings in the window, reflecting the sunlight. Each was unique, classy, the kind any lady would be proud of.