Behind his closed eyes, the fire still raged. He burned as though, even now, the flames were dancing upon his skin. His charcoal, undying corpse lay wrapped in white bandages like a mummy. All was silence in the abandoned room.
Who am I without a face? he wondered. What am I? For centuries, he had survived under a human veneer, a vestige of the mortal life he’d led, but that was all ashes now. Ashes, he answered both questions. I’m nothing but cinders, living, tormented cinders, lost to an eternity of flame.
They said he would heal.
But will I?
Tale Told 