An old woman wanders alone in a way-less wood, a black shawl about her thin shoulders, a black dress hanging about her hunched and creaking frame.
She is the last.
The last one left who still remembers the events of that dreamy night so long ago, when four lovers met by moonlight.
She is the last, for all but she have slipped away, passing into the long sleep of death and long since tuned to mere dust in the ground.
The world holds little beauty for Helena now; little joy without her love there beside her.
As the light fades, she halts here aimless wandering and comes to rest beside the still waters of a forest pool, whose glass smooth surface glints greenly in the fading leaf-filtered sunlight. She sighs heavily, and leans forward over the clear liquid, gazing down at her reflection.
An old woman stares back at her, beauty long faded, a woman as withered as an apple left out too long in the sun, or as a rose, once full-blooming, now reduced to naught but fallen petals and a memory of what once was. Her skin is deeply lined, with sun and happy laughter; her once bright eyes have grown dim and clouded with milky cataracts. The flesh around her neck and jaw has begun to droop, her hair is heavily shot through with grey and silver, and all the makeup in the world couldn't hide the crows feet that have taken up residence in the corners of her eyes.
Helena sighs heavily at herself in the water. Where have all the years flown to, she asks herself. Where did all our time go?
As if in answer to her thoughts, the clear waters of the pool shimmer, and for a moment, her younger self stares back at her, laughing happily, unchanged by the passing of time. A tall young man appears beside her.
Demetrius.
Helena watches entranced, hardly able to breathe, as in brief flashes, heartbreakingly brief, her life passes over the surface of the water.
Hermia, laughing as her wild hair whips about her in the wind.
Lysander, so handsome, blond hair gleaming in the sunlight as he rides a horse a breakneck speed, grinning all the while.
Her father, grey haired and wise, blessing her at her wedding feast.
And—Demetrius. His dark locks flowing all about him as he reaches for her, reaching out to touch her, to take her hands and lead her off.
All dead now, every one.
With a small cry of longing, Helena leans forward, tears streaming down her face at the sight of comrades long gone. But the moment her fingertips brush the pool, it's surface shivers once again, and her love is lost to her, faded into mere memories of a happier time.
She collapses, breaking down into sobbing. All of them, all of them are gone; passed on into Hades realm leaving her here alone.
"Demetrius…" she whispers over and over, his name becoming a chant, "Demetrius, please don't leave me here alone! I can't go on without you! Please, beloved, come back. I don't want to live if you're not here!"
But she has no choice.
All of them dead before their time, and she alone must live on, her memories of him the only thing left to her in all the world.