Inktober Day 3 prompt - Roasted

In the midst of the silent chaos

Of bloody corpses and putrid carrion strewn across
The vast stretches of a battlefield; the warrior
Was the last man standing, the lone survivor.

Somewhere afar, a violent cry of triumph erupted
Somewhere within, an volcanic burst of rage,
Somewhere near, not the slightest sound
Celebration afar, misery within, death all around.

Is this the end of my time?
My king is dead, my land nearly perished
Is this death closing in on me?
The battle has been lost. Yes, It has been lost.

His heart like the setting sun in the orange skies
Aglow with a strange spiritedness
Red with bleeding, nearly exploding with fury
Beating rapidly as he hysterically raced across the field.

Suddenly, the world around him was spinning,
He felt himself drift away from reality
Collapsing in a heap on the ground
He lay there, drifting off to a permanent sleep
Roasting in an uncomfortable warmth.