I'm not afraid of fire. My life has always been Flame, but nothing more. I produce it, control it, extinguish it, but that's all I am. The people I know, the friends I have, my family, they call me a prodigy. But what if they found out I was nothing more than an illusion? Like a flame dancing around, I'm never the same. Waver and weave, die or explode, I am the flame, but with a single breath, I could be extinguished. What kind of power is that, if it comes with such a price? I'm just a facade, my dragon is within. My being? Fake. My hopes and dreams? Dashed to pieces. My entire soul is nonexistent. Only It lives in me.
