The door slammed shut.

The cold bit in.

Hester sat on the floorboards.

Her father was gone.

He had taken his coat.

He had taken his boots.

He had taken the silver.

He had not taken Hester.

He had left her the house.

He had left her the silence.

The house was big.

The house was old.

The house was empty.

Hester picked up the key.

It was heavy.

It was cold.

She held it in her palm.

The metal burned.

She looked at the wall.

The paint was peeling.

Like skin.

Like old flesh.

She knew what was coming.

Everyone knew.

The debt was due.

The wolves were hungry.

They did not come for the gold.

They came for the blood.

Hester stood up.

Her legs shook.

She walked to the window.

The snow fell.

White.

Silent.

Dead.

She pressed her hand to the glass.

It was thin.

It was weak.

She could break it.

She could run.

She could vanish.

But she did not.

She sat back down.

She held the key.

The key was a mirror.

It showed her face.

Her face was pale.

Her eyes were dark.

Her lips were tight.

She was not a daughter.

She was a vessel.

She was a lock.

She was the door.

The first knock came.

Soft.

Polite.

A visitor.

Hester did not answer.

She waited.

The knock came again.

Loud.

Urgent.

The second knock.

The wood groaned.

The hinges squealed.

The door opened.

No one was there.

Only the wind.

Only the snow.

The wind spoke.

It did not use words.

It used breath.

It used ice.

It whispered.

*Pay.*

Hester closed the door.

She bolted it.

She leaned against the wood.

Her heart hammered.

She was safe.

For now.

The room was warm.

The fire was low.

The embers glowed.

Red.

Orange.

Dying.

Hester looked at the fire.

The fire looked at her.

It was hungry.

It was alive.

It was a beast.

It wanted more.

It wanted her.

She reached into her pocket.

She pulled out the key.

She held it over the fire.

The metal heated.

It glowed.

It shone.

It was beautiful.

It was terrible.

She did not drop it.

She held it.

The pain was sharp.

The pain was clean.

The pain was hers.

She watched the key melt.

The silver ran.

It dripped.

It hit the ash.

Sizzle.

Hiss.

Smoke.

The key was gone.

The lock was gone.

The door was open.

The wind rushed in.

The fire roared.

The flames jumped.

They danced.

They laughed.

They fed.

Hester watched.

She did not flinch.

She did not scream.

She smiled.

A small smile.

A sad smile.

A free smile.

The house shook.

The beams cracked.

The walls sweated.

The heat was intense.

It was a furnace.

It was a tomb.

It was a birth.

Hester felt the heat.

It kissed her skin.

It touched her eyes.

It filled her lungs.

She breathed in.

The air was sweet.

The air was thick.

The air was life.

She stood up.

She walked to the center.

She spread her arms.

The fire wrapped around her.

It caressed her.

It embraced her.

It consumed her.

She was not afraid.

She was not alone.

She was the fire.

She was the heat.

She was the light.

The house burned.

The snow melted.

The ground steamed.

The trees bent.

The sky darkened.

The stars appeared.

They watched.

They judged.

They wept.

Hester was gone.

The house was gone.

The debt was paid.

The silence returned.

But it was different.

It was not empty.

It was full.

Full of ash.

Full of smoke.

Full of memory.

A bird landed on the rubble.

A sparrow.

Small.

Brown.

It looked at the fire.

It looked at the ashes.

It looked at the empty space where Hester had been.

It sang.

A high note.

A clear note.

A pure note.

The song echoed.

It bounced off the smoke.

It rose into the sky.

It joined the stars.

The fire died.

The smoke cleared.

The snow began to fall again.

White.

Silent.

Pure.

It covered the ruins.

It hid the truth.

It hid the pain.

It hid the glory.

It hid the self.

The sparrow flew away.

It disappeared into the white.

It was gone.

Like Hester.

Like the fire.

Like the key.

Like the debt.

Like the silence.

The world turned.

The earth spun.

The years passed.

The snow melted.

The grass grew.

The flowers bloomed.

The trees grew tall.

The forest returned.

The ruins were gone.

The memory was gone.

The truth was gone.

But the song remained.

In the wind.

In the rain.

In the leaves.

In the bones.

In the blood.

In the soul.

Hester was not dead.

Hester was not gone.

Hester was everywhere.

Hester was the fire.

Hester was the light.

Hester was the choice.

The choice to burn.

The choice to be.

The choice to free.

The choice to love.

The choice to let go.

The choice to die.

The choice to live.

The choice to be free.

The fire is still burning.

In your chest.

In your heart.

In your soul.

Do you feel it?

Do you hear it?

Do you see it?

It is waiting.

It is hungry.

It is alive.

It is you.

It is me.

It is us.

We are all Hester.

We are all the fire.

We are all the key.

We are all the lock.

We are all the door.

We are all the silence.

We are all the song.

We are all the snow.

We are all the ash.

We are all the life.

We are all the death.

We are all the truth.

We are all the lie.

We are all the self.

We are all the other.

We are all the same.

We are all different.

We are all one.

We are all many.

We are all here.

We are all gone.

We are all now.

We are all then.

We are all always.

The fire burns.

The fire never stops.

The fire never dies.

The fire is eternal.

The fire is us.

Listen.

Can you hear it?

Crackle.

Snap.

Hiss.

Burn.

Burn.

Burn.

It is your name.

It is my name.

It is the name of life.

It is the name of death.

It is the name of freedom.

It is the name of love.

It is the name of truth.

It is the name of Hester.

It is the name of you.

It is the name of me.

It is the name of us.

It is the name of everything.

It is the name of nothing.

It is the name of all.

It is the name of none.

It is the name of now.

It is the name of then.

It is the name of always.

The fire burns.

The fire is here.

The fire is you.

The fire is me.

The fire is us.

The fire is truth.

The fire is life.

The fire is death.

The fire is freedom.

The fire is love.

The fire is Hester.

The fire is you.

The fire is me.

The fire is us.

The fire is everything.

The fire is nothing.

The fire is all.

The fire is none.

The fire is now.

The fire is then.

The fire is always.

The fire burns.

The fire is eternal.

The fire is us.

Listen.

Can you hear it?

Crackle.

Snap.

Hiss.

Burn.

Burn.

Burn.