She stood over him, holding the heart—no, not all of it. Half still remained within him, giving him the power of divinity. But the power she took from him still was enough to set her ablaze. The dead caressed her like children embracing their mother, guiding the heart into her own chest. Light poured from her eyes, her freckles, the tips of her fingers. The skull—her crown—glowed bright. The flower in her hair burned. She was a goddess.
