#dying declaration

Alice: Alicecurses, her hands trembling, streaked with your blood. “Come on now partner,don’t be an idiot. Dying over something like this? Come on. Come on!” She gripsthe front of your shirt, her tears obscuring her view. “Don’t you dare fuckingdie on me!”

“You… you told me… I was an idiot… for loving you,” youremind her, struggling to get enough air to form the words.

“Yea, well, don’t be! Don’t be the kind of idiot who saysshit like that and then dies!” Her voice is raw and sharp.

“You know… you love me… too,” you rattle back, as youcontinue to lose feeling in your extremities.

“I’m not going to say it if you die, so don’t you dare! Hearme! I forbid you to die!”

Even the motion of her hands on your body can’t stop youreyes from closing. You never do get a response to her statement out.

She’s still shaking you long after your eyes have closed forthe final time, your last breath rattled. One of her hands balls up, and shepounds your chest, hard. Then she does it again, spewing curses as she hits yourepeatedly, as if she could physically beat the air back into your chest.

A wordless scream tears its way out of her throat. Handsgrip her shoulders, trying to pull her away from the body, but she throws themoff, hitting and clawing at anything that comes near, refusing to leave theside of her lover.

Someone’s calling her name, but she snarls, an animalisticrage rendering her incapable of words. She wants blood, blood for blood, bloodto slake the rage and pain she can feel building to an insurmountablehead.  

She misses the one who came up behind her, the needleslipping in. In moments she’s being pulled up and away, the paramedics ignoringher incoherent mumbles as she works her wooden limbs, reaching for Gabriel.

Iain: He strokesyour face, trying to muster a smile. “Shh. Shh, don’t—don’t strain yourself.The ambulance is on the way. It’s going—it’s going to be all right, okay?” Hisskin is red and blotchy, turning the color of his hair. It’s so bright, even asthe world starts to grow dark.

“You’re red,” you tell him, because for some reason rightnow that’s important for him to know.

A broken laugh escapes him. “Yes. Yes, I’m red. Red forstop. Red for don’t go,” he tells you, babbling. He’s not making sense, butthat’s okay. It’ll all be okay. He said so.

You lift a hand, and he seizes it, kissing the fingers,heedless of smearing blood on his lips. “I love you, you know that, right? Sojust hold on for me, please. Please.” He’s begging, sounding heart-breakinglysad. You don’t like it. Iain deserves to be happy.

You pat his cheek with the tips of your fingers. “Shouldn’tcry. Not a pretty crier,” you tell him, nodding sagely at your advice.

“I promise I’ll stop crying if you can just hold on for me,”he tells you, squeezing your hand tighter. At least you think he is. Youcertainly couldn’t keep it up on your own anymore.

“I’m… I’m gonna…” You can’t finish your sentence, youreyes fluttering closed for the last time.

“Gabriel? Gabriel!”

“Stilllllll….” You try to tell him that you’re still here,that you’re still with him, that you love him—but your body won’t cooperate.Then you feel nothing at all.

Iain calls your name over and over, until his voice is awhisper and his throat feels raw, until everyone in the vicinity has comecrawling out of their respective holes to gape and stare, phones clicking awayas people talk and shout, afraid to get too close but still curiousnonetheless.

He’s a silent stone when the paramedics arrive, stillholding your hand against his face, the other pressed futilely against yourwound, as if he could will your lifeblood back inside your body. When theyascertain that none of the blood is his, they drape a blanket over his shoulderand wait for the cops to arrive.

Charleston: Hisfingers hurt on your shoulder. They’re too strong, too sharp. “Hurts,” youmumble around lips that don’t seem to want to follow instructions.

“Good. Focus on that,” he grits out, his teeth elongated.His eyes are shifting as well, turning into those wild wolf eyes. “As long asit hurts, it means you’re alive. So don’t you dare—”

He can’t finish the words, clenching his jaw as his nailsdig into your skin. But it doesn’t hurt as much anymore, and your eyelids aregetting so heavy. You’ve seen him shift before, but you don’t think you’ve everseen him this uncontrolled about it.

You should tell him. It’s probably not safe to be shifting.People will be coming. In fact, that kind of sounds like an ambulance now. Itsounds very far away though. Impossibly far.

“Your wolf is showing,” you tell him, flopping your head tothe side to stare at the rest of him. Well, at least his spine hasn’t startedto change, and most of his bone structure seems to still be human.

“That’s not important,” he snaps, the words distorted byteeth too large for a human mouth. “Gabriel. Focus on the pain. I need you tofocus on that.”

You can smell more blood. There’s already so much, but thisone is different. Not yours, then.

You roll your head again, catching sight of Charleston’sother clenched hand. He hurt himself. “You’re bleeding.”

“Stop worrying about me!” He’s angry now, and you flinch.Immediately he softens. “Just… conserve your strength.”  

“Tired now,” you mumble. You reach up to catch one of histears, but your hand remains at your side, twisted at an angle that looks verynot-good.

“Gabriel, no, don’t—”

“Just… just need a moment,” you whisper, eyes closing.

“No!” He’s shouting, but even that’s not enough. Thedarkness is so close now, and you smile as it embraces you.

A howl rips through the night air, waking people with a cryfull of heart-break, a wolf who has lost his mate.

Zaria: She hasher hands over your wound, desperately trying to staunch the flow of blood. “Ineed you to put pressure here. I need to—I need to get my kit. In the car.”

She’s not looking at your face, which means she can’t hearyou. Instead she yanks one of your hands up, pressing it against her waddedshirt.

Even like this, she’s beautiful, you think. There’s blood onthe lacy cream bra she’s wearing, and her hair hangs down in their braidedstrands around her face on one side. Her scarf is tied around your leg, amakeshift tourniquet wrapped tight with one of her stilettos.

“Pressure! You need to put pressure!” Her words are slurringat the edges, the crisp diction she practices slipping in her panic.

Mustering your will, you raise a hand to her cheek. Shejerks her head, dislodging it, but you persist. Finally she looks at your face,her eyes wide with terror.

“It’s okay,” you say, careful to over enunciate eachsyllable. She shakes her head, her hair flying wildly around her face.

Once more you wait for her to look at you. “I love you,” youtell her, lips struggling to shape the syllables. Your hand falls back to theground.

It sinks in that there’s no saving you. By the time she gotto the car, you’d already be gone. She knows that. Her mouth parts, and astrange sound—one that you feel more than hear, something you suspect a humanwould be completely ignorant of—washes over you. It lifts the pain, and you canbreathe easier.

With a trembling hand, she signs “I love you.”

Smiling, you start to sign back. You frown as your fingersrefuse to form the correct hand. The more you try, the worse it gets. Zarialifts the hand she had pressing down on the shirt, and takes your hand,carefully shaping it.

She’s bent over your body, her hand mirroring yours in thesign for ‘I love you’ when the paramedics arrive.

Stephanie: Sheshakes her head wildly, hands flying apart in strange machinations as she triesto pull more magical energy from the air. “I can fix this,” she tells you, herteeth grinding together as she strains to do magic beyond her capabilities.

“Steph.” She ignores her name, a small scream escaping herlips.

“Just work, damn it!” She repeats her motions, to no avail.“For all the—” Her words slip into Cantonese, but for some reason you can’tunderstand her. Huh. The Babylon matrix must not work right when you’re dying.

“Hey!” She slaps your cheek, hard, and your eyes jerk open.“Don’t you dare die, hear me! Because it’s a hell of a lot easier to bring backsomeone mostly dead than it is someone dead dead, but don’t think I won’t!”

You laugh, finding her statement hilarious. “Dead-dead,” yourepeat, laughing again until a cough interrupts you. A fine spray of bloodemerges from your lips as you hack and wheeze.

“Save your energy,” she snaps, eyes wild as yet again shesnaps her fingers and wrists about, trying desperately to perform magic thatshe just can’t. “Come on!” She tears at her hair, looking at you as the firsttears spill over her cheeks.

You manage to twitch your fingers in a ‘come-here’ gesture,still struggling to breathe. Won’t be long now. You can feel it.

Her lips part, salty droplets dripping into her open mouthunheeded. “No. No, you can’t—I love you. You can’t go. It’s not fair.”

She folds over you, and with the last of your strength, youstroke through her black tresses.

They find her with her head on your chest, and for a momentthey think her dead too. She has a blank look on her face, her tears dried up.

“My phone. Get me my phone,” she says, ignoring allquestions directed to her.

Tom: Hisbreathing is harsh, and he looks unwell. His hands hover over you, shaking,uncertain what to do. “We—I need to move you. It’ll be faster if—”

He’s panicking. You don’t think you’ve ever seen himpanicked. Flustered, yes. But never—never like this. Not even after Marie died.

Oh. That’s probably why. He wasn’t there the first time. Andby the time you interviewed him, he had hidden his emotions behind aprofessional veneer.

“I’ll get blood all over the car,” you tell him.

His eyebrows draw low and he stops to stare at you for amoment. “Do you think I care about that right now?” he demands, angry. That’sbetter.

“No,” you admit as he starts to slide an arm under yourback. You hiss in pain and he stops, features contorting in agony.

“I’m sorry, I have to keep going,” he says.

You close your eyes and suck in a breath, almost losing itas a fresh jolt of pain hits you. “Do it!”

He moves quickly, scooping you up and running. Each time hisfeet hit the asphalt you seize up in agony. Turning your face you bury it inhis chest, fingers clutching at his dress shirt.

“Almost there!” He sounds so far away now. Then he curses.

Tom never curses.

A whine escapes you as he shifts you into the back-seat, afresh wave of pain bringing tears to your eyes. “Tom, I can’t—Tom, please, makeit stop!”

“Shh. Shh. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, but I have to do this.”He fumbles the seatbelt, taking three attempts to finally strap you in. Anotherone gets wrapped around your legs, and then he disappears.

Fear seizes your heart. “Tom!”

The driver door slams as Tom gets inside. He spares a glanceback at you, hair akimbo and face drained of all blood. “Hold on!”

A scream works its way out of your throat as the car lurchesinto motion. After a particularly bad bump, though, you stop being able to feelmuch of anything.

“Tom…” It’s so quiet, you fear he hasn’t heard you.

“It’ll be okay. I’m not going to let you die, Marie!”

“Tom…” Tears slip down your cheek. You’re going to die. Youknow it. And he—

Brakes squeal, and then he’s half-way in the back with you.“We’re here,” he says, scrambling to get the belts undone.

“Stay with me. Stay with me, Gabriel.”

Oh. He does know it’s you. That’s…

Tom sinks to his knees, just feet away from the ER doors.Someone’s yelling for a gurney, but Tom couldn’t care less.

He’s too late. Once again, he’s too late.

Karyn: She’s frozen, staring on with wide eyes. She’s seen bloodbefore. Heck, she’s killed before.

But those were animals. Deer. Birds. The occasional rabbitwhen she felt like a challenge.

Never like this, though. Never a person. Never someone she’scared about.

Marie had been beautiful by the time she saw the body. Laidout, at peace, in a casket.

There was nothing beautiful about all this red. Red andwhite and—god, that was bone, wasn’t it?

“Karyn—” you call for her and she flinches as if someone hadstruck her. You stretch out an arm towards her and she stares at your bloodyhand in horror.

“Karyn, please—” You don’t want to die alone. And you knowit. You know you’re going to die.

“I—I can’t—” Her voice comes out high, scared. She doesn’tknow what to do. This isn’t her clean world of computers and code, nor theforests where she lets her wolf run free.

“Please,” you beg, struggling to keep her in focus.

She shakes her head, unable to tear her eyes away from thegore.

“Look at me.” She stumbles back a step.

“Karyn!” The sharp tone has her looking at your face, andfinally some of the panic abates.

“We should—I need to call an ambulance!” She fumbles out herphone, shaking as she tries to unlock it before remembering she can dial 911without doing so.

She has the phone up to her ear before you can get herattention again. “Not gonna make it in time,” you tell her.

“Don’t say that,” she says. Then she speaks into the phone,her words quick and trembling.

You close your eyes, tears spilling from the corners. Thewoman you love is only feet away, but she might as well be miles away.

Then you feel your head lifting, before it settles back onsomething warm and soft. “They’re on their way,” she mumbles, hands holdingyour cheeks.

You grip one of her hands, the motion costing you more thanyou’d like. “Thank you,” you squeeze out, feeling yourself slipping away.

“I’m sorry. I’m so… I’m so useless,” she says. Watersplashes onto your forehead, but you’re too gone to notice.

“Gabriel?” She sounds so lost, scared and alone. But there’sno one to hear her. “Gabriel!”

When the ambulance arrives, she’s shivering, crying silentlyover the body whose head she still cradles on her lap.  

Sabriel: You canfeel Grace pouring into you, almost as fast as you can feel yours slippingaway. She’s trying to fill up the empty reservoir, keep you from dwindling intonothingness.

“Stop.”

She ignores you, squeezing her eyes shut tighter, her handsforming a physical bridge as she gives Grace she can’t spare to you.

It’s not going to save you. It’s too little, too late.You’re both drained, exhausted and on your last legs.

Well, you literally, Sabriel not so much. “Stop!”

“Shut up,” she tells you. “For once in your bloody life bequiet and listen to me,” she continues, refusing to open her eyes. “I’m not goingto let you die, got it? I’m a Guardian. We protect people. We don’t let themdie in our arms!”

The British accent she claims not to have is more pronouncedwhen she’s upset. Each word so precise, so clipped.

“And you won’t do anyone any good if you’re dead too,” yousay, struggling to pry one of her hands off her face.

“I don’t care!”

Her eyes snap open, pure black orbs meeting yours, full ofincandescent rage.

“I do,” you reply calmly, finally succeeding and pulling oneof her hands off.

You can see the fight leave her face, the resignationsetting in as she stares at your body, cataloguing the wounds. It’s training.Know who you can save, who you can’t.

You both know which category you fit in.

“Please don’t ask me to stop,” she begs, even as the trickleof Grace turns to a few unsteady drops.

“People still need you.” You tell her, pressing against herarm on your side. “I can’t—I can’t be there for them, anymore. So please, dothis for me.”

She bows her head, pressing her forehead against yours. Yourbreaths mingle, but there’s not enough of your Grace left, not enough breath oflife left in your body for it to feel like a proper hongi. A goodbye, then.

“I love you,” she whispers.

“I know,” you respond. Your eyes slip closed for the lasttime, and you know no more.

Michael: “No. Nono no no no no,” he repeats, trying desperately to shore up your body with hisown Grace.

But they’re not holding. One-by-one, each of the make-shiftGrace bandages flickers out of existence.

He’s never been great at healing.

“No!” He presses too hard on one of your wounds and you letout a strangled gasp.

Immediately he snaps his hands away, anxiously looking atyour face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to!”

“It’s… it’s okay,” you say, struggling to speak. It hurts somuch, that none of it is okay, but he’s trying.

It won’t make a difference, though. You’re dying; he knows,you know it.

“Can you just hold me?” you ask, trying not to let yourvoice break.

It doesn’t work.

“I need to—”

You roll your head from side-to-side, ignoring the pain themotion causes. “It’s too late, Michael,” you tell him, uncurling your hand andtrying to move it towards him.

Instead you bite down, catching part of your tongue as a newwave of pain hits. Then it’s gone, and you smile in relief.

Michael raises your entwined hands to his chest, clutchingdesperately to you like a life-line. “It won’t hurt anymore,” he promises,bending his head and kissing your knuckles.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him. And you are. You both wasted somuch time being angry at each other, and so little enjoying the happiness thatshould have been yours for millennia to come.

The unfairness of it all has an angry tear rolling down yourcheek. “It’s not fair,” you tell him.

“No, no it’s not,” he agrees, rocking back and forth on hisheels. His lips start to shape more words, but nothing emerges.

“I don’t—I don’t want to die,” you confide, squeezing hishand harder. At least it doesn’t hurt anymore.

“I know,” he chokes out, the tears streaming down hischeeks. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t be at your side. I’m sorry for—for everything.I wasted so much of our time.” He leans down, kissing your forehead.

Some of his tears hit your cheeks, mingling with your own. “Ilove you, so much, Gabriel. You will always be my one and only.”

He holds you until the life leaves your body. Then he picksyou up, cradling the corpse. First, mourning. Then, payback.

Ramiel: Hebrushes the hair back from your face, mustering a smile.

“You know, you don’t always have to be the hero, coming tothe rescue of everyone else,” he tells you, voice strangely unsteady.

“Wasn’t trying to be a hero,” you mutter, wincing as hisother hand presses down harder on the largest of your wounds, trying toforestall the inevitable.

“You ruin a lot of shirts,” you tell him, watching as yourblood continues to turn the pale grey to a dark maroon.

A broken laugh bubbles forth from his deep chest. “I thinkthis one we can count as your fault,” he says, still stroking your forehead andcheek. It feels nice, gentle and comforting.

“Call it a tie,” you retort, covering his hand with one ofyours. Reluctantly he lets you move it away, removing the pressure.

It’s too late, anyways. No need to forestall the inevitable.

“Don’t… don’t let my father kill you,” you tell him, fingerscurling around his hand, clinging tight to his warmth. You’re so cold, all of asudden.

“I make no promises,” he says, smiling through his tears. Hesqueezes your hand in return, the grip too tight to be comfortable.

“You owe me,” you remind him.

“You can’t collect if you’re dead.” The words are supposedto be a joke, but his voice breaks in the middle. For a moment he stopscaressing your face, reaching up to swipe away the tears with the back of hishand.

He’s trying so hard to be strong for you. You appreciate theattempt, but it’s not necessary.

“Don’t make me come back from the grave just to kick yourass,” you warn, the threat ruined by the way you hack and wheeze at the end ofyour sentence.  

The second you finish he leans over and kisses you, the kisstasting of iron and salt. “Promises, promises,” he squeezes out, burying hisface against your neck.

He’s still like that when Israfel arrives, curled around yourbody, clinging to you and weeping silently into your shirt.

Leo: He’s inshock. You’re an archangel. You can’t just—you can’t just die.

“Sorry to disappoint,” you whisper, reading his expression.

It’s happening in front of him, and he still can’t believeit. This is why you shouldn’t put anyone up on a pedestal. It’s a longer way tofall.

But it had been… nice, to be someone’s hero. And before youknew it, you were falling for him too.

“Don’t say that,” he says.

“What? It’s true. You don’t datean archangel expecting them to die, I’d wager,” you say, spitting out someblood.

Leo kneels down next to you,cradling your cheek in his hand. He looks so young, right now. So vulnerableand disillusioned. His hero isn’t so bulletproof, the absolutes of his worldare just lies that have yet to be exposed.

“I wanted to spend the rest of mylife with you, yes,” he says, holding you so gently, as if you might break.

It’s too late for that. You’realready broken beyond repair. He can’t make it worse.

“Well, it’s the rest of my lifeif that counts for anything,” you say. It hurts to talk.

“Every moment with you counts,”he whispers, leaning down and kissing your forehead. Then he kisses the bridgeof your nose, then the tip, and lastly your lips. By the end of it he’s crying.

“I love you,” he says through histears, pressing his nose to yours.  

“I love you too,” you murmur. “Butdon’t… you’re so young. You have your entire life ahead of you.”

Leo slides his nose across yourcheek in a shake of his head. “Stop. Stop talking about me just… forgettingyou. I don’t… if this is the last time I get to tell you I love you, that’swhat I want to do. I want to tell you how I love your smile.”

You feel yourself start to tearup, even as you start to lose feeling in the rest of your body. It won’t belong now.

“I love how you steal the sheetsat night, but will wake up sprawled across me and the bed,” he whispers, thehand not cradling your face moving to squeeze your hand.

“I love how intensely you love. Ilove how passionately you protect those you care about.” Your eyes drift shut,his voice soothing, even as rough with emotions as it is.

“I love when you forget where youput your keys, or you put on mismatched socks, or—” he can’t finish.

He stays wrapped around you untilhe’s pulled off, going with the paramedics woodenly. For as violent a death asyou died, there’s a peaceful smile on your face.

Tadea: You’venever heard the noise coming from her before, a kind of hoarse coughing bark. She’scurled up around your body, as if she could become one with you, tie you tothis plane of existence by sheer will.

“Don’t go where I can’t follow,” she pleads, handsconstricting painfully against your side.

They’re half claws by now, her form rippling as shestruggles to stay in a human shape. “Don’t leave me,” she begs, her snot andtears straining your shirt.

There’s no way you’re lifting your left arm, as mangled asit is. With a great deal of concentration, you can move your right. It takesseveral movements, but eventually you’re touching her.

“I don’t want to,” you whisper to her, brushing your fingersalong her stomach.

“Then stay,” she cries. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you respond, wishing you had more for her.“And I’m sorry I have to… go.”

You certainly never expected to be in this position. Both ofyou had been sure that out of the two of you, Tadea would be the one on her deathbedwith you at her side.

Neither one of you was prepared for this possibility.

A forlorn cry escapes her, muffled by you shoulder as sheclings even tighter to you, all capacity for speech gone, replaced by primalsounds of grief.

You want to stay awake, stay with her as long as you can,but your eyes won’t stay open any longer. Even your fingers quite responding,falling still.

Tadea shudders violently as she gives up the fight to stayhuman. The animal takes over, her panther still in agony but less aware of thefull ramifications of the situation. Confused and hurting, she curls around hermate, refusing to move until they wake up.

When the paramedics arrive, they’re confused by how far thefew onlookers are gathered.

At least, until they see the large panther snarling, curledaround the victim protectively. “Call animal control,” the senior paramedicinstructs, sitting on the back step of the ambulance.

“Shouldn’t we—”

“That’s a wild animal, and it’s protecting that body. We’renot getting anywhere near it.”

Iro: She movesquietly around you, stripping off her top and folding it before slipping itunder your head.

She doesn’t say a word, but you catch bits of a tune sheseems to be humming as she goes about trying to make you as comfortable aspossible. Moving you is out of the question; she has the strength necessary,but you don’t think you would survive the process.

Better to die as is, you supposed.

Satisfied she’s done the best she can to make you physicallycomfortable, she kneels beside you on the ground.

“Wouldn’t have taken you for being sentimental,” you wheeze,having the unpleasant sensation of seeing a rib move up and down with thebreath.

Iro touches your cheek, tilting your head back so all youcan see is her face. “There is no need to be cruel to the dying,” she sayssoftly.

“I didn’t say you were cruel,” you amend, you’re breathingsuddenly becoming a lot easier. A wave of gentle heat suffuses your body,stripping away the pain and encroaching cold.

It’s almost pleasant to die like this. You can understandwhy a human might let a succubus kill them now.

“You implied it,” Iro states, licking her thumb andscrubbing at some blood that’s dried at the corner of your mouth.

“You’re the one who always says love is a fool’s errand,”you retort, starting to feel a pleasant buzz. You could just go to sleep, justlike this, but the knowledge you’ll never wake-up again spurs you to keep youreyes open.

“It’s not love. Nor kindness.” She busies herselfstraightening the neckline of your ruined shirt, a process that seemsridiculous.

“But death does not discriminate. Even immortals may feelits embrace. And you do not deserve to die alone,” she states.

She purses her lips, and then reaches into her designerpurse. A moment later she pulls out two pennies. “I know angels don’t have anafterlife, but it can’t hurt,” she adds.

You try to say something in response, but your tongue isn’tworking right.

“Shhh,” Iro says, stroking your cheek in an almost tenderfashion. “Sleep now.”

She might think you an idiot for getting yourself killed, andshe might be a demon, but at times Iro could pass as loving. For instance, youcouldn’t understand how this benefited her.

The second the last breath left the body, Iro placed a pennyon each eye. Rising, she expended power to clean herself up and conjure a freshtop. Bending over, she picked up her purse, and strode off, never sparing alook behind her.

Aelius: He’spulling energy from the nearby humans, extending his reach farther than youthought he could.

But he’ll start killing them soon, and it’s not going tosave you.

“Aelius.” You call softly to him, trying to get hisattention.

“Not now, Gabriel. I need to concentrate.”

“Aelius.” Your voice is harder, and he glances to you, mouthset in a thin line, eyes full of anger and… hate?

“Let me save you!”

“You can’t,” you retort.

“I can—”.

“You can’t, and you know you can’t,” you insist, voiceharsh.

Aelius falls silent, hands balled at his sides, refusing tomeet your eyes. Your breath rattles in your chest.

He would hate himself later for killing so-called innocentswhen it failed to serve its purpose.

“I can try,” he mumbles.

“You’re a crap demon,” you inform him, fumbling for one ofhis hands. The motion catches his attention, and the fight leaves him. He takesyour hand, stretching out beside you, tucking himself into your side.

“If I was a better one I might be able to save you,” helaments, his body starting to shake as he tries not to break-down.

“If you were a better demon, we might not have met at all,”you say to console him. It doesn’t help as he breaks down into tears, clutchingyour hand but terrified to touch you elsewhere.

You squeeze his hand with what remaining strength you have,trying to keep your eyes open. It’s a losing battle.

He’s trying to be quiet with his crying, his whole bodyshaking with the effort as sobs wrack his form. You blink, or try to, but youreyelids won’t open again.

Now you can hear him, strange hiccupping and frantic,gasping breaths.

He knows you’re dead when the fingers of the hand he’sholding go slack. A tortured cry escapes him as he crawls over your body,clutching you to his chest, no longer afraid of causing you more pain.

After all, the dead get off easy. It’s the living who haveto find a way to endure the agony of being left behind.

Ryder: He’s astone is a sea of chaos, the waves breaking over him.

It’s not happening. He refuses to accept this as reality.

Gabriel. Does. Not. Die.

Not while these pathetic mortals get to live. They don’t getto somehow escape Death while one of the most powerful entities he has ever hadthe fortune to encounter, to love—

His breath hisses out, white as the temperature dropsrapidly.

Frost starts to creep over the ground. Cold. Cold can slowbloodflow, preserve the body.

Right?

Right. With a wave of one hand he levitates Gabriel, drawingin a sharp breath as he gets his first view of the damage to their body.

He walks over to them, his boots crunching over the ice andsnow starting to cover the ground.

Gabriel’s breath rattles painfully, their breath only a fewfaint tendrils of white.

“You’re dying,” he informs them, sounding cold. Calm.Collected. In control.

“Damn,” Gabriel responds, face twisting in pain.

Ryder reflexively raises a hand as if to touch their cheek. Hecatches himself, and turns it into a motion that blasts a path through thedebris on the street.

“I cannot save you. But you already know that, since you areequally powerful.” Ryder was no healer. He sowed death and destruction.

But a side-effect of that meant he was intimately aware withthe feeble limitations of death.

He hadn’t been able to conquer it when he was younger; helacked power and expertise.

He’s no longer that young boy, however. He’s a conqueror, awarlord who intends to rule, with Gabriel at his side.

He’s not about to change his plans because of a minorinconvenience like death getting in the way.

“I do,” Gabriel responds, convulsing in the air as painravages their body.

“Good. Because understand that it is very inconvenient,” hehisses the words out, glancing around to see if there are any living humansaround.

Doesn’t appear so.

He leans over Gabriel, pale eyes alight with a cold fury. “Youare going to cause a delay in our plans. I expect you to make it up to me,” hesays. Then he kisses you, more teeth than lip, an expression of anger and love,though he would never admit the latter willingly.

“I can do little for the pain, but the cold should take itaway soon. Sleep. And remember the agony so that you do not repeat thismistake,” he instructs.

A smile tips Gabriel’s lips up. “As you command,” they say,just before their eyes slip close.