dance around this empty house

Lonely shadows following me
Lonely ghosts come a-calling

Please. As if he might relent just becasue someone asked nicely. Korbin thrashed against the arms that closed around him, tried to throw elbows, knock his own head back into Loren's, twisting and shifting; he used every trick in the book. But it wasn't enough. He hadn't eaten or slept properly for days, too busy caring for others to tend to himself. And though the healing mended the broken ribs and the frost damage and the burns, even though his vocal chords mended and the smoke was banished from his lungs, there was no replenishing the lost energy. He kept raging and healing and raging again until there was nothing left, until only the madness of grief kept him moving.

From the house came a creaking, rumbling sound. In a great shower of sparks the roof caved in, and sooty tongues of flame shot up against the night black sky. As the building crumbled, all the fight went out of the boy. With a wordless keening cry he watched his life go up in flame. His legs gave way.

If the healing reached his mind was hard to say. Probably it did. But it made no difference. There was no filling the void in him, no replacing what had been lost. Crumpled on the ground, Korbin screamed out the pain he now had to face head on, and it was too much. Just too much.

He could cry for the rest of his life, and it wouldn't even begin to ease the pain of this loss.

Thousand voices dead at my feet
Now I'm gone, now I'm gone, now I'm gone