Fire.

Golden, and pure. A river of it, flowing down and through long fingers, poured into a sliver of silver.

At first? It was wonderful. Powerful. Enough fire to shatter, or create. An exultation of an Angel, channeling the pure Aether. Cause to shiver with joy and thrill at the promise fulfilled of an Awakened birthright.

By the end, it was agony. Trying to part the ocean, direct it, hold it, until droplets of sweat? tears? fell freely. Senses and nerves raw, paths of control blasted open and held against a quicksilver flow turned into sandpaper. Control, never let go, until eyes flutter with fatigue.

It's not over. Not. Yet.

A cast, tied, inverted to hide it, is still a tether. Every weave starts with a warp, anchored to the loom of the Soul. Enough warps? Contagion. But a tether is a tether.

Until it isn't.

It isn't easy. 'Relinquish' makes it sound easy. As easy as dropping a newspaper on a counter. It's more like tearing. Tearing that needs to be re-wove to keep the entire weave from collapsing. Ever wonder who's screaming, and realize there's only one person present? It's all perspective. A person thinks they've pushed themselves, thinks they know how to Try Hard, but they don't, until they have to give so much that they might never be the same again.

A crucible, one that'll ask just how much a person is willing to Sacrifice.

It's not any easier the second time.

Wrap my eyes in bandages.
Confessions I see through.
I get everything I want.
When I get part of you.
- "Ringfinger", Nine Inch Nails