Nanessa
I sat at the front of his bed. His breathing steadily, rising and lowing. I concentrated every fibre of my body on his breathing. I had to make sure it would continue. I was his nurse; the one to make him better and I had to keep it locked in my mind, not to let him go. He had a family. A wife and child on the way. I would not let them down. Looking into the face of this man I could see he was weak: the colour in his face draining, his lips turning blue, the strength of his hand, holding mine, loosening. I was loosing him and there was nothing I could do. I needed to wait for him to live or I needed to wait for him to die. The sun was almost set now and the men of the war would soon be celebrating the death of the accursed king. But how could that be? The war was not over. There was still one battle left to fight. For although the king was dead, his followers were not. And they would want revenge-an endless cycle. King Galbatorix killed for power, his followers fought with him for power, we fought against them for power, our captain disguised the fight for power as a fight for freedom, we never had freedom, people would die for freedom, and then we would fight again for revenge. I wanted revenge: for hurting the man who lied next to me. He was a saviour. Our saviour. And I was blessed to have known him, even though as I watched his white face, and I held his cold hand, I knew that I would never again look into the eyes of my hero.