The man lay on his side in the dimly lit sewer tunnel as the faint sound of water dripping filled the air. His eyes were dull and unfocused as the water slowly began to pool under his head; empty pill bottles and beer cans lay scattered around him, some still wet, others dry and caked.

His clothes were rank with the filth of the sewers, but on closer inspection, they appeared neat and orderly. Almost as if, even in their ruined state, the man unconsciously upheld a certain standard.

If not for the slight tremor of his eyes as they watched each drop fall, you could mistake his sunken cheeks, fish white eyes, and pale skin for that of a dead man. He did not care, though; he had long lost that ability.

Drip...drip......drip..........drip. Each drop of water seemed to come slower and slower in the man's eyes, each ringing echo louder and louder. Until the final drop slowly fell from its pinnacle. The man's eyes followed that final drop for what felt like an eternity, and when it finally hit the puddle below, its sound was the sound of the world itself shattering.

Then... Darkness.

The man lay in the shallow puddle, his eyes no longer following the slow drip of the water above. No longer following anything. Empty.

After a long moment, a silhouette blocked off the light from the nearby sewer grate exit. The silhouette approached, revealing the form of an olive-skinned middle-aged man in clean street clothes and a yanky's baseball hat.

The man was utterly unremarkable in everyway; just another face in the crowd you wouldn’t ever notice. All but for his eyes. His eyes glowed with a gentle light, flickering with “something” indescribable.

And those strange, indescribable eyes, Eyes that could see beyond Infinity, beyond Eternity, stared down at the quickly cooling form of the man before him, a deep sorrow clouding their boundless depths.

The man slowly approached and knelt down beside the fish-eyed man. As he had done with countless others before, the newcomer reached out and gently closed the fish-eyed man’s eyes, before standing with a tired sigh.

“It is by the flame that gold and slag are separated, but when the flame dies, all that results... are ashes.”

The newcomer was silent for a moment and closed his eyes as if in prayer before turning around and walking back towards the tunnel entrance. He spoke in a low voice with a smile,

“But while even a single ember burns, there is hope for the Flame to be... Rekindled."

The newcomer left the dim light of the sewer and stepped back into the sunlight. He whistled a soft tune and strolled up a hill and down the nearby road, hands in his pockets as he made his way to his next destination.

A small raccoon hiding in a nearby bush popped its head out as the newcomer walked away. Deeming it safe, the small animal briskly ran towards the tunnel entrance, hoping to find a stash or scraps. However, to its surprise, there in the dark tunnel sat a small pile of nuts and fruit as fresh as if they had been just picked. The small raccoon ran to the pile and began to fill its stomach, chattering excitedly, not minding the otherwise empty tunnel.