Burning alive was something Joel had never expected to experience, but now he thought about it, it seemed inevitable. The hunger and destruction was unmatched by any other force of nature, as was the efficiency.

Etho's hand in his turned cold in comparison to the searing heat of lava, as it devoured and tore flesh apart, like butter and a heated knife. Soon, the only thing matching the ferocity of the fire was the red tinting his vision, the constant anger threatening to burst its dams at the slightest provocation.

Fire was the one constant, threaded through Joel's life like rain on a web. It burned and it itched and destroyed, and it was beautiful.

Maybe that was what was so ironic about the end.

Because fire was as far away from rain on a web as it could get. Always hungry, always angry, always wanting more: in a way, it was a perfect metaphor for Joel himself.

However, none of the irony seemed relevant in that moment, considering all he could see was fuzzy red, and the only sound was a dull buzzing, like a hoard of bees had found their way into his hell.

The buzzing crept inside his head, as if the static was reaching inside his mind and blurring out the nerves until his mind was like cotton candy, but far less sweet.

His eyesight was blurry, and his brain refused to work beyond basic functionality. Panic began to build as he realised that, desperately calling out as he stumbled in the abyss.

"Etho!"

He didn't know what he was expecting, really. A call out of the static, cutting through it as easily as a spark catching alight? Maybe in a more sober state, he would've realised how ridiculous it was, but still he hoped.

His heart ached, empty and hollow of the bind he'd grown accustomed to. It was as if someone had turned it inside out and gutted it, leaving only bitterness and anger. Even those however, were muted and dulled by the overwhelming feeling that for the first time since the start of the games, he was completely and utterly alone.

Maybe he'd grown too dependant, maybe it was this deep, instinctual connection that had caused it to go so very badly wrong. Because surely, what else was responsible for the echoing loss embedded like shards of glass in his heart, ripping and tearing apart any form of joy in its wake.

This line of thought didn't cure the dull ache.

Regardless, he still pushed forward, kept stumbling onwards to a desperate idea of hope.

"Etho!"

He let out a soft gasp as he tripped forward, that turned into a desperate cry when he realised he wasn't hitting the ground. Wind was rushing around him and the air was thin, but still he kept falling.

Now the nausea was all but gone, replaced by sheer terror. His heart pounded in his chest and his breathing was barely under control.

"ETHO!"

"Joel?"

He twisted to his side, rope coiling around him. But that didn't matter, not when he was so close.

"Joel please, I can't-"

His body hit the floor with a resounding crack.

Blood pooled under his body, but regardless Joel crawled towards him. Dried blood coated his face and his trousers were stained red, but he kept going until he was near enough to notice the stillness of his chest. Panic once again surged through him as he desperately reached towards his neck, searching for a pulse.

Only to find silence.

A sick feeling crept up his throat, as he shakingly raised his hand to his own neck.

Like Etho, he could find nothing. And with that realisation, the god fell next to his soulmate, dead.