Fire is a beautiful thing. I always cultivated it where I could, wherever I found it.
Forests, houses, cities all felt the touch of loving fire. The gentle caress of the flame and the heat left them purified.
Stripped of evil, stripped of injustice. Stripped of life. Ash blowing in the wind. All fire must eventually end, running out of fuel and time.
Fire burns still. Burns within my blood, flame eating at my mind. Wreathing my head, an eternal flame. Pain forever that cannot kill me. My soul burned away years ago, leaving just so much ash.
I am soulless, flames the last thing left in the hollow at my heart. The last of my 0ld form to melt or singe away were my eyes, trickling down my face like grisly tears, leaving blank sockets filled with orange flame.
People run screaming now when they see me. I don’t blame them, forgiving them as I lay them, their homes and their lands to waste with cleansing flame. Only ash remains.
For that is my duty.
I am the Soulless.
Let them burn.
Let them all burn as I do.