What to paint

Bad ending

With a flood of panic Scaramouche ran. He somehow knew exactly where to go. He ran without looking back. They tripped and stumbled through the snow. He continued to run holding the box close to his chest. As he ran the snow became wet. It froze his feet. The snow melted and it slowly became easier to run through. The frost melted and the ground grew clear as he neared the top of the hill.
The ground started to sprout. Flowers covered in frost grew from the ground. They glowed and lighted the way. Trees of crystal ice grew and shined the light from the moon like a spotlight on you. Your skin was losing its color. The blood drained from your face and you looked tired. You looked like you would collapse at any moment.
Scaramouche reached out his fingers touched your cold skin. You were so tired you reached out too. You don't know why but you reached up towards the sky. Your siblings watching from their spots, unable to help you as your skin grew solid. The flowers around your kneeling body grew more. They wrapped and twisted around your waist and up to your outstretched hand. Your skin grew blue, the ice and the cold took over your once burning body.
Your statue sat there frozen tears streaming down your face as you reached out to the person whose wish was the best you had ever granted. A wish to be loved had once burned and the Crystal memories in his hand shattered. They burned brightly flying up towards the heavens but your frozen corpse was left behind. Your hand reaching out to the puppet you cared so much about. For the first time the puppet felt grief, he screamed and cried. Clinging tightly to the ice he pleaded and begged. He refused to let go of you even as a blizzard grew burying you in snow. A God of ice sat on her throne the portrait of her in her hands. A tear slipped down her cheek and every god took a moment to morn the wishing star and their ungranted wish.