"And you told me to not be dramatic" I muttered, turning away. "I know you were simply returning to your world; finding you again however, shall not be easy." I remembered then, the chalice that lay heavy and brimming with malice at my side. The key to a dungeon it was, an endless realm of battle wherein even I, the frailest of steel, could be tempered.

I felt then, a surge of darkness within my breast; a spark that was to the Cinder as a cloudless midday is to a starless midnight. Curious, I extended a mental finger to the murk within me, and instantly recoiled as a chill fierce as glacial tears passed through me. The Darkness was rooted as deeply as the Cinder; what this meant, I could not say, only that I felt my sanity begin to erode. Desperate, I strained and writhed, struggling against its indomitable grasp; trying without success to free myself, to snatch away the hand of my consciousness from the searing flame of its deep chill.

I crumpled to my knees, writhing and gasping, clawing at my chest as though I could physically tear the blasphemous heart from its perch. Steam rose from my fingertips, caressing my cheeks and burning my wide eyes; and with a sudden cry of agony, I wrenched my hands away, skin blistered and bone jutting through deep gashes.

Darkness stole my sight, and my muscles turned to warm, molten honey that flowed uselessly around my bones as I collapsed and lay motionless.