Kerioth

Kerioth is not among us. A few of us have postulated that he was the will incarnate. I don't know. I remember his box, trusting him with our resources, but his eyes never left the fire. What did he look like? Few remember him or his appearance but we hear the name whispered in the shadows and there is recrimination on that tongue. And there is guilt. Ours or his? Was there doubt? I remember the will and I remember the temper and the tone. Kerioth had no doubt. The fire that warms us is lit by a hand we know not, and illuminates nothing except the confusion and the darkness we are engulfed in, but Kerioth is not among us and we wonder why. He is not punished. I remember a road, dry and cracked, and an argument and fear. There is recrimination on that tongue but Kerioth has no doubt. The flames reach up into the night, bound and forsaken as are we. The faces, covered in ash and dust, are sunken, eyes darting here and there when we hear his name. I don't remember his face or his appearance but I know that Kerioth is not among us.