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Opening
Here the light is so fierce it burns: a crucible where colors melt into pure radiance. The air rings with heat, and shadows evaporate before they reach the ground.
Heralds of Nihility circle in the blaze — they whisper that it is easier to go dark than to burn. I walk through the fire toward the summit.
Ending
I passed through the crucible and did not burn away — the radiance owned me as its own.
Out of the crimson heat strides Rubeus, the Crimson Dawn: "I was the first spark of this fire. Now I will be your blade in the very furnace."
The crucible is behind me. Ahead is the throne, where the spectrum pretends to be peace.






