The sky split.

Light poured down.

It was white.

It was cold.

I ran.

My feet hit mud.

I ran.

The village burned.

I ran.

I saw the gate.

It was stone.

It was old.

It was closed.

I pulled.

It would not open.

The fire was close.

I screamed.

No one came.

The fire touched my dress.

I kicked the stone.

It cracked.

I fell.

The fire took the roof.

I crawled.

The stone was sharp.

It cut my hands.

I crawled through the gap.

I was inside.

The air was thick.

It smelled of ash.

I stood.

My heart beat fast.

I looked around.

The room was dark.

I saw a shape.

It was a woman.

She sat on a chair.

She was still.

Her eyes were open.

They were closed.

No.

They were open.

She looked at me.

She did not move.

"Who are you?" I asked.

My voice was small.

"I am Elara," she said.

Her voice was dry.

Like leaves.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"This is the Keep," she said.

"It is safe."

I looked at the door.

It was sealed.

"Is it?" I asked.

"Yes," she said.

"I will show you."

She stood.

Her legs were stiff.

She walked to the wall.

She touched a stone.

The wall moved.

It was a door.

It opened slowly.

Light came in.

It was blue.

It was soft.

We walked in.

The room was large.

It was full of books.

The books were old.

The paper was brown.

"Read," she said.

I picked up a book.

I opened it.

The words were strange.

I could not read them.

"I do not know how," I said.

"I will teach you," she said.

She sat by me.

She pointed to a word.

"It is 'fire'," she said.

I looked at the word.

It was just ink.

"It is not fire," I said.

"It is the memory of fire," she said.

I looked at her.

She smiled.

It was a small smile.

It did not reach her eyes.

I put the book down.

"I want to go home," I said.

"You cannot," she said.

"The world is gone."

"No," I said.

"The world is here."

She looked at me.

She shook her head.

"You do not understand," she said.

"I understand," I said.

I looked at the window.

The sky was blue.

It was not the sky.

It was paint.

It was a lie.

I felt sick.

I looked at Elara.

She was watching me.

Her eyes were kind.

They were also cold.

"Why did you save me?" I asked.

"I did not save you," she said.

"You saved yourself."

I thought of the stone.

I thought of the crack.

I had done it.

I had broken the wall.

I had come in.

She had not stopped me.

She had let me in.

Why?

I looked at the book again.

I picked it up.

I read the word.

Fire.

I remembered the heat.

I remembered the pain.

I remembered the smoke.

It came back.

It was sharp.

It was real.

I dropped the book.

My hands shook.

"Stop," Elara said.

"I cannot," I said.

"You are not ready," she said.

"I am ready," I said.

"You are afraid," she said.

"I am angry," I said.

She stood.

She walked to the door.

She stopped.

She looked at me.

"You are the Key," she said.

"I am a person," I said.

"You are the Key," she said.

"I do not want to be a Key," I said.

"Everyone wants to be something," she said.

"I want to be free," I said.

"Freedom is a cage," she said.

I looked at her.

She looked at me.

We stood in silence.

The blue light flickered.

It was a machine.

It was not the sun.

I looked at the books.

They were records.

They were lies.

They were weapons.

I looked at Elara.

She was a guard.

She was a jailer.

She was kind.

She was cruel.

She was alone.

I was alone.

We were together.

It was a trap.

I walked to the door.

I pushed it.

It did not open.

I pushed harder.

My arms ached.

It did not move.

I hit it.

It was solid.

I fell back.

Elara did not move.

She watched me.

"I cannot get out," I said.

"No," she said.

"Can I get in?" I asked.

"Where?" she asked.

"Into the world," I said.

"Into the fire," she said.

I looked at her.

She was smiling.

It was not a smile.

It was a mask.

I stood.

I walked to the bookshelf.

I pulled a book.

I opened it.

I read.

The words changed.

They became images.

I saw the village.

I saw the fire.

I saw myself.

I was the fire.

I had started it.

I had burned it.

I was the monster.

I dropped the book.

I vomited.

It was black.

It was ash.

Elara stepped forward.

She held a cloth.

She wiped my mouth.

"Clean," she said.

"I am dirty," I said.

"You are pure," she said.

"I am a liar," I said.

"You are the truth," she said.

I looked at her.

I saw her face.

It was my face.

It was not my face.

It was a reflection.

I was the Key.

I was the lock.

I was the door.

I was the wall.

I was the fire.

I was the ash.

I was the silence.

I was the voice.

I was Elara.

She was me.

We were one.

We were two.

It was a dream.

It was a nightmare.

It was real.

I looked at the door.

It was open.

I had not opened it.

It was open.

I walked to it.

I stepped out.

The air was cold.

It was wet.

It smelled of rain.

It smelled of earth.

It was the world.

It was not the world.

It was the keep.

I was still inside.

I looked at my hands.

They were black.

They were ash.

I looked at Elara.

She was gone.

The room was empty.

The books were gone.

The wall was gone.

I was alone.

I walked.

I walked for a day.

I walked for a week.

I walked for a month.

The ground was gray.

The sky was gray.

There were no trees.

There were no birds.

There were no people.

There was only me.

And the ash.

And the silence.

I spoke.

"Hello?" I said.

No answer.

"I am here," I said.

No answer.

"I am sorry," I said.

No answer.

I kept walking.

My feet bled.

The blood was black.

It mixed with the ash.

It was a river.

It was a road.

I followed it.

It led to a hill.

The hill was high.

It was steep.

I climbed.

My legs shook.

My breath was short.

I reached the top.

I looked down.

The valley was full of fire.

It was not fire.

It was light.

It was white.

It was cold.

I looked at my hands.

They were glowing.

I was the Key.

I was the fire.

I had to burn.

I had to burn to open the door.

I had to burn to save the world.

I had to burn to save myself.

I closed my eyes.

I let the fire in.

It was not pain.

It was peace.

It was release.

I was gone.

I was here.

I was everything.

I was nothing.

The fire rose.

It touched the sky.

It broke the sky.

Light poured down.

It was white.

It was cold.

I ran.

My feet hit mud.

I ran.

The village burned.

I ran.

I saw the gate.

It was stone.

It was old.

It was closed.

I pulled.

It would not open.

The fire was close.

I screamed.

No one came.

The fire touched my dress.

I kicked the stone.

It cracked.

I fell.

The fire took the roof.

I crawled.

The stone was sharp.

It cut my hands.

I crawled through the gap.

I was inside.

The air was thick.

It smelled of ash.

I stood.

My heart beat fast.

I looked around.

The room was dark.

I saw a shape.

It was a woman.

She sat on a chair.

She was still.

Her eyes were open.

They were closed.

No.

They were open.

She looked at me.

She did not move.

"Who are you?" I asked.

My voice was small.

"I am Elara," she said.

Her voice was dry.

Like leaves.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"This is the Keep," she said.

"It is safe."

I looked at the door.

It was sealed.

"Is it?" I asked.

"Yes," she said.

"I will show you."

She stood.

Her legs were stiff.

She walked to the wall.

She touched a stone.

The wall moved.

It was a door.

It opened slowly.

Light came in.

It was blue.

It was soft.

We walked in.

The room was large.

It was full of books.

The books were old.

The paper was brown.

"Read," she said.

I picked up a book.

I opened it.

The words were strange.

I could not read them.

"I do not know how," I said.

"I will teach you," she said.

She sat by me.

She pointed to a word.

"It is 'fire'," she said.

I looked at the word.

It was just ink.

"It is not fire," I said.

"It is the memory of fire," she said.

I looked at her.

She smiled.

It was a small smile.

It did not reach her eyes.

I put the book down.

"I want to go home," I said.

"You cannot," she said.

"The world is gone."

"No," I said.

"The world is here."

She looked at me.

She shook her head.

"You do not understand," she said.

"I understand," I said.

I looked at the window.

The sky was blue.

It was not the sky.

It was paint.

It was a lie.

I felt sick.

I looked at Elara.

She was watching me.

Her eyes were kind.

They were also cold.

"Why did you save me?" I asked.

"I did not save you," she said.

"You saved yourself."

I thought of the stone.

I thought of the crack.

I had done it.

I had broken the wall.

I had come in.

She had not stopped me.

She had let me in.

Why?

I looked at the book again.

I picked it up.

I read the word.

Fire.

I remembered the heat.

I remembered the pain.

I remembered the smoke.

It came back.

It was sharp.

It was real.

I dropped the book.

My hands shook.

"Stop," Elara said.

"I cannot," I said.

"You are not ready," she said.

"I am ready," I said.

"You are afraid," she said.

"I am angry," I said.

She stood.

She walked to the door.

She stopped.

She looked at me.

"You are the Key," she said.

"I am a person," I said.

"You are the Key," she said.

"I do not want to be a Key," I said.

"Everyone wants to be something," she said.

"I want to be free," I said.

"Freedom is a cage," she said.

I looked at her.

She looked at me.

We stood in silence.

The blue light flickered.

It was a machine.

It was not the sun.

I looked at the books.

They were records.

They were lies.

They were weapons.

I looked at Elara.

She was a guard.

She was a jailer.

She was kind.

She was cruel.

She was alone.

I was alone.

We were together.

It was a trap.

I walked to the door.

I pushed it.

It did not open.

I pushed harder.

My arms ached.

It did not move.

I hit it.

It was solid.

I fell back.

Elara did not move.

She watched me.

"I cannot get out," I said.

"No," she said.

"Can I get in?" I asked.

"Where?" she asked.

"Into the world," I said.

"Into the fire," she said.

I looked at her.

She was smiling.

It was not a smile.

It was a mask.

I stood.

I walked to the bookshelf.

I pulled a book.

I opened it.

I read.

The words changed.

They became images.

I saw the village.

I saw the fire.

I saw myself.

I was the fire.

I had started it.

I had burned it.

I was the monster.

I dropped the book.

I vomited.

It was black.

It was ash.

Elara stepped forward.

She held a cloth.

She wiped my mouth.

"Clean," she said.

"I am dirty," I said.

"You are pure," she said.

"I am a liar," I said.

"You are the truth," she said.

I looked at her.

I saw her face.

It was my face.

It was not my face.

It was a reflection.

I was the Key.

I was the lock.

I was the door.

I was the wall.

I was the fire.

I was the ash.

I was the silence.

I was the voice.

I was Elara.

She was me.

We were one.

We were two.

It was a dream.

It was a nightmare.

It was real.

I looked at the door.

It was open.

I had not opened it.

It was open.

I walked to it.

I stepped out.

The air was cold.

It was wet.

It smelled of rain.

It smelled of earth.

It was the world.

It was not the world.

It was the keep.

I was still inside.

I looked at my hands.

They were black.

They were ash.

I looked at Elara.

She was gone.

The room was empty.

The books were gone.

The wall was gone.

I was alone.

I walked.

I walked for a day.

I walked for a week.

I walked for a month.

The ground was gray.

The sky was gray.

There were no trees.

There were no birds.

There were no people.

There was only me.

And the ash.

And the silence.

I spoke.

"Hello?" I said.

No answer.

"I am here," I said.

No answer.

"I am sorry," I said.

No answer.

I kept walking.

My feet bled.

The blood was black.

It mixed with the ash.

It was a river.

It was a road.

I followed it.

It led to a hill.

The hill was high.

It was steep.

I climbed.

My legs shook.

My breath was short.

I reached the top.

I looked down.

The valley was full of fire.

It was not fire.

It was light.

It was white.

It was cold.

I looked at my hands.

They were glowing.

I was the Key.

I was the fire.

I had to burn.

I had to burn to open the door.

I had to burn to save the world.

I had to burn to save myself.

I closed my eyes.

I let the fire in.

It was not pain.

It was peace.

It was release.

I was gone.

I was here.

I was everything.

I was nothing.

The fire rose.

It touched the sky.

It broke the sky.

Light poured down.

It was white.

It was cold.