The cold visions of my memory returned to me once more, as I awoke unknowing what had transpired in the centuries while I slept. I saw the ruined catacombs of the walls that had engulfed me, draped in the bouncing red tapestry of the dancing flames. As I struggled to make sense of this new scenery, and as my vision slowly adjusted itself to the static chaos of what was before me, I started to see glimpses of her silhouette. I could barely see past the thick fog of darkness even as I struggled to claw my way out of my grave in futility, but in my mind's eye, I could see her as clearly as the dawn that had eluded me. I had not felt that feeling in so long, and could only vaguely remember the road paved with the corpses of enemies and allies alike as I walked the path set out for me with relish.
As I pondered about whether she was really there, if she was truly watching, a small pang of regret momentarily stifled my breathing, forcing me in turn to cough out clouds of dust that had long settled their way into my lungs. By the time I had recovered from this short interlude, her vision was gone, and I was left with nothing but the thoughts of my failure of saving her...and how my quest to do so had inevitably led me down this dark path. Was it really worth it, Marie? Even knowing what would happen, did you really think you had no choice in the matter? I caught myself in the midst of my unsettled thoughts and shook them off, knowing that just as ever they would go nowhere. While she enjoys her time in heaven, I am trapped in this miserable shell of a body, plunging the world into chaos for all eternity...an eternity never to be by her side again. She would never reply. Why would she? Even far beyond that, as I tried to push these thoughts into the back of my mind, I knew for certain that even if there was some way to meet...see...FEEL her again, I would not want her to see what I have become. I was nothing but a shell, but to me, she was eternal.
I slumped over, still surveying my surroundings. My legs had not yet regained their ability to walk, so I had no choice but to lean on the walls using them as my guide. My eyes had now adjusted to the dark, but I still could not tell where I was or how I got here. The last thing I remembered was a sharp pain through the left side of my chest where...a pale warrior with white hair had seemingly bested me in combat and stabbed me with a damn sword. Trevor? Why did that name feel like it had some sort of significance? I traced over my chest where the sword had pierced me in that memory, but found no remnants of being wounded at all. Was it all some kind of sick dream? If so, why did it all feel so real? If not, then how did I get here?
Still lacking in answers, I shuffled over down the corridors leading to my old throne. I weakly sat, covering myself in a crimson blanket as I struggled to fight the cold permeating through the entirety of my brittle frame. I would have preferred the delusion that these sensations came from the hands of death finally showing me mercy, but I knew far better than that. And so I waited, occasionally peering into the outskirts of a city that was entirely unknown to me. Trapped within the confines of my own fortress, I could only revel in what once was. All I could see was that the world had forgotten my existence, and for good reason. Where there once was a mighty dragon, there was now only a scurrying pack of rats. I considered stepping out of the steeples of my once majestic cathedral, but saw no real reason to.
I was great once. Feared. Now all I could do was lightly chuckle at what was evidently an eternity that had long past.
I could not die...yet...I could not live.