Two humans and one Spirit crowded close into the room near the bed where a third human sat propped by pillows, his face a study in restrained pain and exhaustion.
The older of the women spoke, eyes blazing with the fire of her inner nature as she snarled, “Why the hell are you doing this?! It’ll kill you, you know that right? It’ll destroy you!”
The other young woman gazed at him with a faint sadness, saying, “You’re not dying, you’re being unmade. Even I, and Death itself defers to my will, won’t be able to call your self, your soul, back from that when you’ve gone too far.”
The young man on the bed looked to the side, though his voice was steady when he spoke.
“Somebody has to. And nobody else seems either willing or able to. If I don’t then the world will die, so what’s one life when weighed against all that?”
The older woman turned, slamming a fist into the wall and in a voice tight with grief and anger responded, “The fuck does that even matter to you!? You don’t even remember your damn name, why do you care so much?”
He didn’t respond, but a light touch on her arm from the other woman--hardly old enough to be called such, honestly--gave her pause.
“Something else bothers you, doesn’t it, Tarosk? You’ve known him for such a short while but you care very much for him all the same.”
Silence held for several long minutes before Tarosk turned her eyes back to the young man before her and said in a soft voice, “Isn’t one poor bastard called to die to save us all one too many? Why you, too? Why must you act like him?”
Looking aside, the young man said simply, “I don’t need to remember who I was to know what I’ve always been willing to sacrifice to give this world another chance.”
The younger woman and the Spirit pulled back, turning to glance subtly at each other, eyes filled with the same secret knowledge and the same question--Did he know? Did he suspect? Did he piece together the truth of his own self? Or, perhaps, did he merely feel his nature would always lead to a willingness to lay down his life in the name of the greatest good?
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Pain, pain everywhere, fire, burning inside her... Â Flames licking at her organs, blood boiling, the energy of life itself flowing through her transformed into flames, rising from her skin, swirling around her... Â But all she could do was step forwards, the pain and inevitable death kept distant by some unknown power, some ancient force filling her mind with images, memories from ages long past showing her the way to use this power, and glimpses of a time not yet come--a time that could be changed, a fate that could be averted, if she learned to wield this power in these her final moments of this life. Â Flames licking at the edges of her sight, roaring in her ears, people screaming and fleeing before her burning form. Â A wordless voice in her mind was showing her the way, guiding the flames consuming everything--not just body, but her mind and soul ablaze with fire born of raw power. Â
And as the fire covered all her vision, as she lost touch with all she once was, a surge of power welled up within her and burst forth, a roaring inferno whirling about her, turning all those within the room to ashes.  From the flames, a new sense of self emerged, strengthened from the cleansing burn, and a roar like but unlike that of the flames reverberated around the sealed chamber.
