When the blood would flow through her veins, she could feel them extend and then lower once more underneath her skin. When she took a breath ever so carefully, though it remained nimble, she could feel her veins extend, her heart move forward in her chest, and her lung clasp together or pull apart. As she would blink her always blank eyes, she'd feel the little wind force on her eyelashes and the conscious thought of doing it. To her, it was just a regular life. But to her, and her only, it was comfort.

For years she had found that nothing could make her, nor anyone else that was a Planeswalker, totally comfortable. None of them were totally safe. Whether it was a village strict on religion, the banning of magic, or even the architecture of a plane, they were in danger. And even more so now because of Nicol and Tezzeret, the two that would " dare " stand in the face of Liliana Vess, Jace Beleren, or both. Both though, still strained, would never stand together. She knew this fact was all too real.

Her blood-stained hands were another factor. They were never clean, and never could be. At times she wanted to own the blood on them. She wanted to take a clean dagger and rip her heart out to stare at it's utter uselessness, and then find the chamber in her mind that made her so pitiful. She wanted to get rid of it all until all that remained was her body. And even that wasn't enough comfort, for her body had been carved in ruins of past demons, and stained permanently by the blood of her enemies. Nothing was ever enough.

Breathing was one memory she could never remember in battle. Even though breathing and life was the key to her winning, she focused more on death. Sharp breaths didn't take her attention, but she would remained focused on her goal. And though she was breathing the entire time, she never noticed that she was.

To blink was just a common reaction. She never realized it had meant so much to her before. She had squinted in rough times, and closed her eyes in times of rest or to hide behind a lie. Tears that threatened to spill from her eyes were shut up by blinking. It truly had done so much for her, and yet she paid it no heed until that day.

And finally, there was her blood. Blood had never been anything she saw much, though it was in plain sight of her most of the time. She had her own blood, but often, it wasn't still. She would draw such sharp breaths, she could feel her body tense. Or she would take a hit and feel the pain of the whelming blood to where she took the blow. Blood had been a key in her life the entire time, and she never cared.

But as she lay there, all the thoughts rushing through her head, she was still oblivious to the chaos surrounding her. The dead body of Jace next to her, the deadly and unforgiving flames that surrounded them, not even the small chance that she could escape alive. None of it ever crossed her at that point, and if it would, she wouldn't flee.

She wouldn't be able to get up and walk away with a few bruises like she always did. Suffering would be the only outcome of her escape, because no matter where she went, how she would slip past a plane without a trace, or how much she begged and cried and pleaded, he would still find her. The thought of suffering for so long consumed what sanity remained in her mind at that point.

The thundering sound of another timbering tree would not disturb her pleasant trance. Her still-beating heart was all she paid attention to at that time. To breathe in and then out was only a habit. One she would soon break, for she wouldn't be breathing long. She knew this, for her final contemplation on life whispered in through her ears. You're going to die.

Overall, she found that her life had been nothing. She had caused chaos, she had killed, and she had gotten such a strong reputation. In the end, though, it would never matter. None would remember her, and her unmarked grave would serve her no help. She would be like a spec of dust in the multiverse. Never seen, never cared about, never remembered.

Finally, all the thoughts still rushing through her head, she could make out the figure of Nicol Bolas. He stood, his body looking contorted to a strong degree. Some of his scales were singed by his own fire, some plastered in blood, some ripped beyond repair, and many just gone. He opened his mouth briefly, showing his blood-covered fangs to her. It did not frighten her, nor did it bother her. Finally, the thing that she had secretly feared but forever controlled would confront her. Death.

Death, her everlasting fear, was there to take her. Despite all belief of Nicol, however, Liliana did not quiver, nor shake, nor make the slightest response to his presence. She wanted to die with dignity, not crying, not pleading at Nicol to leave her be and go away, but taking it like the strong person she had become over so many years. Not a necromancer, not a Planeswalker, Liliana Vess. She would take her death, her pain, and her misery, as Liliana Vess.

Nicol, not being brief in his killing, leaned his weary neck down to stare at Liliana. So cold was his gaze that Liliana could feel her blood slow at it. Still, she did not say anything, and she did not shed a tear. She would die with the willingness to face her fears.

Slowly but surely, his talon made its way to her, resting finally upon her neck. The slender grin he gave was of great pride, but also an emotion Liliana could detect as fear. He moved his talon once more over her neck, to the other direction. " For you, I will be brief." he spoke softly. Quickly, he ran his talon down to her chest, stabbing it once with shear power, but not enough to go through her completely. He took it out, then stabbed her once more next to the near-fatal wound.

It seemed like hours to Liliana before Nicol finally flew off. She was not dead, he would not kill her. She would die by the injuries she had sustained from his hand, though. The blood she could feel rushing out of her was a meak comfort, for it's cold feel numbed her body. The final blink was a disappointment, for she felt no wind in her lashes. Taking her final breath, though, proved to be her last memory. She had never known how much breath, blood, or blinking would mean to her. But as her last breath escaped her, she still felt her heart beat, and knew she died with still so much to contemplate.