Mordana Lucia, the crone, the Fading Flame. The match strikes, and the last fire is lit. As the flame burns down, all that matters is brought to mind. Anger. Fear. Love. The bitterness of empty years burns through all things, leaving ashes and regret, until only emptiness and freedom remain. Wings spread, the fire moves to consume the caster, but among the embers, a single drop of hope remains. So long as this stays unburnt, the fire cannot consume us. Perhaps there will be another flame, some day, but this one can be extinguished for now.
