He was in serious danger. The day had finally come. The day he thought would never happen. The day when all of his fears became reality and all of his hope seemed to dwindle and extinguish, like a flame being smothered by two greasy fingers. This flame of his was the one thing he treasured most. It gave warmth to all that encountered it, but like a candle it required only a mere breeze to snuff it out. Now it was lost.
Without the flame to keep the terrors away, his mind was at their mercy. He had created them after all out of fear and sadness, so it was only natural that they destroy him in return. Who did he blame for his misfortune? No one. Not even himself. Doing so only made the terrors stronger, darker, and more numerous. This day was guaranteed to come no matter how much he lied to himself about it, but was it really unavoidable? He had feared it so deeply that in a way this day too, was of his own creation. He succumbed to fear the worst before it actually happened and so it occurred even sooner than he anticipated.
Now he was cornered. Behind him was a cliff with rocks at the bottom, each one sharp like a sabre, only more deadly. In front of him was the deep despair that he alone created. It came in the form of a murderous fog, so opaque that his eyes could not see beyond it. The terrors clouded his thoughts, occupied his very being, making his nerves tremble with anxiety and his bones shake until he was reduced to mere nothing. It never left his presence. Once the terrors were created they were destined to haunt him. Sometimes he could forget that it existed, but no distraction was strong enough for him to dismiss it entirely.
He glanced behind himself once more to see the cliff that became ever so tempting. Only the end lied beyond, although that was not what he saw. The terrors deceived him. When he looked at the cliff he recognised the flame that was once his, luring him to the edge. He so desperately wanted to have it again. He wanted the flame to devour the terrors. He wanted it to latch onto him, taking control until it melted his skin into liquid and his bones into ashes, until the flame was all that remained and its warmth could return to comfort all of those who would accept it. He didn’t want to be himself anymore. He wanted the flame that used to be part of him to now be all of him. 
What he saw, though, wasn’t real. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself that it was, it could never break the wall between his imagination and reality like the terrors did. He found it much easier to scare himself and tear down his tower of self-esteem, rather than support himself and try to rebuild. Like a magnet, the edge called to him, its pull growing stronger with every step that he took. He was now at the cliff’s end.
He reached out to touch the flame, but it was just out of his grasp. The terrors were waiting for him to take that final step. The further he reached out and the harder he tried to reclaim what he thought was there, the further the flame went from the edge. Could it really be this close? Just a little bit further and it could be his once again. They would be reunited in glory and everything would be ok. But was this what he really wanted? Maybe he was meant to lose it or maybe it never left at all. Maybe it was always there but the fog kept him from seeing it. Just like it always kept him from the seeing the truth. He turned away from the cliff and this time he did not glance back.     
It took all of his strength to pull away from the ledge. He did not want to, but he knew that it must be done. He knew after all of the awfulness that was to lie ahead, it would not remain forever. The terrors would leave and their consequences would soon do the same. With time, they will fade away and something new would take their place. It was up to him to decide what. Although they seemed terrifying, the clouds were only an illusion.The fog lifted. Behind lay the truth and with it, a single ember from which a mighty inferno was born.