The fire is crackling, all-consuming, overwhelming. It is the heat in the back of the mind, it is the heat on the back of the eyes.

Shen and Victor wrestle, stripped the the waist, faces showing strain. It looks as if Victor has the upper hand, until Shen lunges forward, plucks his eye from his skull, and eats it.

Balrus stands before a clock winding to midnight, and at the final stroke the hour hand breaks, and falls, and pierces his heart.

And the fire burns.

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