Bang

Rose petals trickle from the creature of nature. Clasped in the treasure of warmth, only to be let go of in time of near freedom. Who is it to answer the call? The call of heaven? The call of the end. A song's last note. A last effort. 

They're gone.

Stop looking at your hands. You did nothing.

You're right. It's because you did nothing that they are gone.

Let's leave. Come on.

Glory to the gods. May your devout believer be ever unwavering. Amen. 

What.