The fire dances as if possessed.
It roars, crackles, and chants.
It calls my name
Beckons to me,
Promises me all I ever dreamed of,
And invites me to share in eternity.
I am Lecta.
The flames lick my hands and face
As though they are glad to see me.
Their diabolical joy washes over me.
Flames colder than ice,
So cold they burn,
But I relish the sensation.
I am Lecta.
I now stand in the fire,
Filled with its dark bliss.
My eyes are alight with the same hue
As the frigid blaze that embraces me
And chars the remnants of my soul
Until it is black as ash.
I am Lecta.
It welcomes me to its infinite darkness.
It burns away my frailty.
My weakness.
My mortality.
It has claimed me.
It has chosen me.
I am Lecta.

- Calliope Faye