"I lay still, watching the plume of smoke rise far above. Black wisps wove higher than any salvo, embers threading the sky before fading. The only proof of my defeat was in the ashes that coated the battlefield—gray and formless, inert and final. Yet some still smoldered with a bright heat that defied their lifelessness. Even here, in the wake of destruction, a spark endured.

I realized then that the end of me is where I begin.

For how can you rise if you have not burned?"