fire runs through my body as blood runs through yours. when you breathe in air I sufficate and when you exhale I am invigorated. the hateful gazes of those around me feel to me like knives. though the gaze I reverse on them burns. they call me deamon or beast or even saten I deserve these titles for I have sinned i have burned down forests, incinerated children, demolished farms and killed all I loved. I can not walk barefoot through a meadow for fear of flame sprouting from my feet. I was born with a charred heart from the womb of a dead soul. i always thirst but water kills me so I am left to things that burn. do you still wish to have me acompayin you on your quest? Do you still want a outcast as your compainian when we travel from village to village being chased away by priests and peasants. Or when you must sleep will you trust me then not to take your soul? And if we do reach the castle would you still want me in your compainy as we kneel before a king?