A/N: I think this would have been the Master's fate. EOT SPOILERS.
You're nothing but a ghost. A ghost of who you were. This long, slow game will be no more.
A man walked slowly across the fiery landscape, his wary eyes scanned the burnt grass. Nothing left. He had no fight left in him, like his planet, he was broken. His life force was used up to kill Rassilon, there was only little left. Corpses covered the ground, mangled, bent, reaching out for him, staring. They stared at him, mouth open. Calling for him. Calling for his death. He understood now what the Doctor spoke of. Hell. This truly was hell. His kind of world. His home. This was where he belonged. His meaning. After all, this warrior is ready. He won't run from destiny no more. Each step burnt up his life force, like a hour glass, the last grains of sand falling. On memory alone, he kept walking… searching… It was the only thing he could do.
He could only walk, one… two… three… four. He made each step in the beat of the drums. Which still remained pounding in his head, punishing him.
He finally found it. The rocky ruins of his father's land. His estates. He wasn't surprised to see his father's glorious fields burnt. But he still felt an unexpected wave of emotions, relief, anger, dissapointment, envy and some he couldn't even begin to describe. Even the once silver trees were burnt. Amongst with the burning Darlek ships. This wasn't how he remembered it. There was no need to destroy the grass. Why? Why burn up the memories? His happiness? He felt his muscles tighten, screaming in agony. His hearts wanting to burst, fly away into the sky. Though he remained still. That was it, the last grain of life gone. His knees gave in. He known there was only moments until the end, until he sets the device off. Until the Doctor destroys hell. Good. He known there were no escape from this fate, and didn't intend to find a way to escape. His whole life was for this moment. To die as a warrior.
He fell into the ashes, inhaling the puff of dust that was released as he fell. Instincts told him to run, but his tired mind refused. Time has ran out for him. He wouldn't want to die anywhere else.
He shut his eyes, setting his mind far back, back at the beginning. When there was no Doctor, no Master. Just Theta and Koschei. Running. Ah, such glorious red fields. They used to run across those fields all day… calling up at the sky. "Koschei." The Master raised his blood covered head, recognising the long forgotten name.
A young boy stood before him, a kind smile spread across his face, his blond curled hair gently resting around his ears. An angel like creature. His saviour. He known he was just a skip away from falling off the precipice of his imagination. He couldn't help but beam back to the boy, happy tears cascading down his face as he replied, "Theta." The boy nodded, and waved him to follow, to run after. Their constant no win game of running. Koschei followed. And both boys called up to the sky. Welcoming death.