Here she still sits, watching the flame wax and wane, looking deep into it's crimson heat. A flame in which had no reason to, but yet had all reason to exist. It had burning brightly before she had taken her as a student, now at the seat of her retirement it now glows dimly, as if almost snuffed from lack of air. The soft wispy embers cry mutely, and here she still sits. Fires are meant to fade in quiet after all...