The world is quiet now.

My blood is no longer liquid fire.

My passions no longer turn me to ash.

I do not bite, do not scratch.

I have become a docile pet to the world.

But sometimes I remember where my loyalties are.

I remember a land ravaged by time, and the pain of two lovers.

I remember a little boy, saving the world.

It wasn't his job. But then, it's never really the hero's job.

Was his purpose divine? Hell, for that matter, is mine?

I'm travelling an empty road.

There's no more room in my heart.

No matter what I try I can't seem to find happiness.

Everything is cold and distant. It's turning me into a frigid star, above even the Fairies' influence.

There's nothing I can really say except I miss my companions.

I'm sorry for rambling. I don't really know what I want.

Maybe I want to be found? But I don't know.

I can only hope that this letter is found by someone who will understand me.

Someone who will be patient with me. I can't promise I'll be kind.

I'll probably be cruel. I'll probably try to fight you.

But if you can see through that, I'll be the best friend you could ever find.

I'm lonely. I'm never been more lonely in my life. Not having friends felt horrible.

Having them and losing them to time feels worse. I remember each individual death.

Each one made it worse. Each one was another stab into the fragile, frozen mass of my heart.

At night I shiver, their fading lives leeching away my warmth.

Do you have the strength to make me warm? I don't think you do.

Because eventually, I'll hold your hand, tears in my eyes, as you fade away.

Just like the rest of them.

I think I've found a way to get rid of myself. It's permanent.

It requires help from someone.

So I asked Dran. He refused me. And I did something I'm not proud of.

I took his blood. It sits in a bottle beside me, glowing softly through the murky crimson mass.

All I have to do is drink it. It's such a heinous crime, to drink the blood of a god.

But it's my only choice. I don't want to be lonely anymore.

I can feel it crush me every day. I wake up, choking on air, on the remnants of my heart.

The broken shards were at first swallowed by alcohol. But after a hundred years?

The tolerance drowns out the effects. Then I tried drugs, but they didn't do anything to me.

So then I mutilated my body. I thought surely it would distract me. But it didn't.

Nothing ever works for me forever. Magic doesn't let you destruct over time.

So it's all or nothing, and I can't handle nothing. It's time for me to not feel anymore.

There's nothing else I can say. I guess I won't be meeting you after all.

I don't want to do it. I don't have a choice.

It's all too much to bear forever.

Heartbreak isn't my friend. It will never heal me, or rescue me from a cruel master.

Heartbreak is the reason I don't have friends. Heartbreak is the reason I'm going to Hell.

So it's time. I'm sorry you won't be able to find me after all. It's better this way, I think.

This way, I'll never have to lose you.

The blood is strange on my tongue. It doesn't taste like blood. It tastes like wind, and clear air.

It tastes like the sky. It tastes like freedom.

The world is quiet now.

Sincerely, R