A curse of Ash, Flame, and Rot

[DragonDarklyDreaming]

Time is a fickle thing

We fight, we struggle. We dance upon the edge of a knife. But so few realize how close we are to the edge.
When did I become aware of it? Was it the discovery of the waiting maw?
The burns that spread just a bit more each day?
Or realizing that I didn't know if this week would carry with it news of another friend's death?

The candle is burning. The wax running down the stick. Pooling. The wick consumed.
My teacher... I have not reached the heart of the flame.
My mentor, my cup is running low.
My heart, you'll have to wait, even so.

I need more time. But I dance upon the edge of a knife.
And the fall is not a kind one.