Reason

Reason had nothing to do with the crimson glow that reached inside his being, turning his love of flame into charred death.

Reason had nothing to do with the sight of blood, blood he had shed, not with fire but with smoke, and the feel of warm metal under his chin.

Reason had nothing to do with the scent of blood that permeated his quarters for weeks, not human, never human again, but still the same.

Reason had nothing to do with the raw need that scrawled arrays on the floors and walls, the stark fear that kept his hands from landing within them.

And no matter how cold and calculated his rise through the ranks appeared, no matter how logical his ultimate goal, reason had absolutely nothing to do with it.