With feet dangling loosely beneath an immeasurable drop he surveys the decaying world beneath him. The sun's red glow, leaking across the evening sky reminding him of the way water colors mix on a standing canvas. The shades of red, orange, and yellow mixing and bleeding into one another as they spread across the sky, fading into the blue and black of the encroaching night. Gentle stars poke holes in the illusion of an artist's canvas, bringing him back to the reality before him. In a land where the last of a fire that had burned everything around it in order to survive, the flame was finally running out of fuel. The shattered memories that had once lay broken and scattered across the land were now covered in the ashes of the few that had remained intact until the flame roared its way across the landscape. The valley once so full of trees standing tall their ancient roots firmly planted into the layers of soil that had become firm with age, was now a barren wasteland where not even their stumps were free from the reckless abandon of the flame. A world that had served its purpose and then fought with the power it had been given, the power that had been needed, refused to die. Burning everything it had until nothing was left, fighting the shadows endlessly even though it was the one creating the shadows. A tragic, hopeless battle, one without understanding, one without end. The world now collapsing on itself, unable to support its own weight, shriveling, decaying, failing in every sense beyond imagine. A cruel smile formed as he watched the world in its last moments, the violent scene reflected in his eyes, a scene he seemed to hold affection for, the feint traces of addiction showing in the corner of his lips. Standing up, a small spark could be seen in the corner of his eye as he pulled his vision away from the scene just before it finally caved in on itself.
"Do you believe in magic?"
A simple sentence, spoken in a dry monotone voice.