I used to be a flame.
Not a small wisp of light, forgotten,
But an inferno that could destroy.
A raging fire, that could burn bright.
A blaze that was the maker of the three worlds.
Once, I was pure and beautiful;
Not one could dare to look me in my full glory,
For who can dare to oppose fire itself,
The conqueror, the leader-
The champion of them all?
Burning bright, flickering, dancing-
The protector of the weak, the slayer of the cruel?
There is no fire in me anymore; just wind, as it blows through my empty veins-
Watching, waiting- whispering dark, forbidden secrets.