It was a fitting end, I could not allow his body to decay and rot, his flesh eaten away by maggots and worms until there was nought left but bones. He burned in life , bright, beautiful, dangerous. It was only right, therefore, that he burned in death. He was dead this time, he would not come back. This time he had won. His grand scheme to destroy the universe had failed but in its failure it had accomplished a far greater goal. I could not function without my hearts and, as I walked away, I left my hearts behind, burnt to ashes by flames in the twilight.