"Death is an experience that everyone dreads, especially people who are close to it."
Closing the book, Clef briefly chuckles at the last line, for he too is dying; yet he's not worried.
There's no doubt that his life's been long, or that he ever really stopped wondering, when his time would grow near. There hasn't been a lot of blood, yet today. Breathing has become harder, as has talking.
He's been bedridden by now, more so than ever. Unlike a few years back, he doesn't resist people's help; he doesn't even try to get up to resume his vigil over Cephiro.
He is dying.
He fines it ironic, considering his age. He had outlived his family, and countless others, all of whom where much wiser and stronger than himself, at the time. He had also outlived almost all of his students. Clef chuckled to himself, remembering what he'd once told Lantis.
"The strength of magic, its success or failure, even the future… Is decided by the strength of heart." He lies there contemplating the truth behind his own words.
Princess Emeraude never questioned his methods, neither had Zagato, Lantis, or Alycone. But he certainly had. His teachings that everyone were raised under, they weren't needed now, Hikaru and the Magic Knights were doing fine, with the responsibilities of Cephiro. As time draws nearer, he has come to terms with his ever-present death.
His body convulses, blood rushes up and out of his mouth, burning his throat and staining his hands. Blood. His blood has lost some of its sheen, a reminder of how close he really is. Harshly couching, a wet bloody cough, he sighs afterward, his body hurts. It hurts even more than it did, during the collapse of Cephiro.
It is better to die alone. This fact he realized long ago. He withdrew, sending people away, but their presence is faintly there. He presumes just for a precaution.
Hikaru most likely is praying, the others most likely worrying as well.
Umi has been the most reluctant to let go, she comes and sits, starts talking about their kids and castle mishaps.
Dropping a hand, he lies still. If he is still, he doesn't feel as much. Even though the pain still washes over him, in sickening waves and knots. His eyes close, a light forms the silhouette of the late Princess, she had finally come. She found him, just as she promised, all those years ago.
His eyelids flutter as he takes one last shallow breath. Time had finally caught up.
The presences of the others die away, as do sounds, and the sticky feeling of the dry blood still on his body. Everything is peaceful at last he no longer has to worry.