Claire sat in the chair at her home, staring into the flames of her fireplace. The glowing purple flames that normally lapped over her skin were absent, leaving her looking lack-lustre and a dull lavender. She couldn't understand how things went so wrong so quickly. But like the flames in the fireplace that quickly consumed the wood within, so too, were her dreams whisked into smoke.
She had met with Psycho to obtain her final quest to test her merit for entry into Radiant Heart. It troubled her that he sent her on a quest to kill a King for a trinket the man carried, especially given that he knew she was not a killer. Still, she went out in the hopes of impressing him - a fact that wore heavy on her soul. Branded a traitor by the trolls nearby, she was beaten within an inch of her life. She couldn't manage to make any headway. Psycho offered to help her along, but Claire couldn't help but feel that to have him aid her was only proving her inability to complete the quest on her own. When he grew angry with her - Claire's heart at last faltered. She had been expected to obey without question, and between her desire to please, her desire to be part of a family on Cruoris, her desire to remain free of killing, her desire to give aid - she had asked one too many.
Dejected, Claire had penned her letter to the Radiant Heart, withdrawing her application - then penned one to Psycho. The recollection of his voice in her mind haunted her - "I guess I was wrong about you, dear." She paused a moment in her writing and hung her head. Never before had she felt such a sting. She finished her letter and with a chant, sent both to the appropriate hands.
This is how she found herself staring into the fire that burned in her home: a dull purple being, her magic muted by the gaping absence she felt in her soul. The longer she stared at the flames, the more substantial the absence became, until the very void it had created grew its own mass to sink her into utter silence.
