The world burns.

She watches it burn. There was once a time where such a sight would have brought made her heart flutter with joy.

Now, she watches impassively, still as stone.

She inhales the smoke, feels the acrid scent reach her nostrils, feels the heat touch her in a caress.

Once, waves of the coolest water had touched her. Winds had gently buffeted her. The sweet grass had curled around, sheltering her.

She watches them all burn.

All had stood against her. For that, they must be punished.

Revenge isn't served cold. No, it stings and chars all that it touches.

They had taken her kindness and used it as a weapon. They had fashioned her into an instrument, a weapon of their own destruction. They had used her gentle heart, and now she had none at all.

The kindest of souls are the greatest destroyers. It is to them that confidences are handed, to them weaknesses are revealed.

She thinks of the beguiled souls who gave her their greatest shortcomings.

She watches eyes turn into pools of gold as their end beckons nearer.

They had thought her weak.

This, in the end, is what makes her laugh. They had thought her naive, and in the end it was their undoing.

How foolish, to trust someone like her!

The heat encroaches closer; she stretches her fingers out, feels them sear as the storm surrounds her.

For if she is meant to have no more breath, she will not do so alone. Oh no, there are many who shall suffer.

She burns.

She burns, and the world burns with her.