Heather Taylor, Serpent Queen
Reaching, yearning searching, I don’t know what for. Light is supposed to know where it’s going. I don’t. Maybe I want personal destruction, Maybe my Search is a selfish need for Something. Anything. Someone. Anyone. That might sate the thirst my fire leaves on the tongue. As suddenly as the expansion, it fizzles out, a licked finger to the flame. I’m just a dim, colorless core, left to cool out amongst the scorched remains of my solar system. The light show’s over. The star’s out.
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