Philip felt dirty.

He slowly staggered across the abandoned camp, half crouched. One hand clawed the ground in his effort to balance himself while his other hand gripped the deep gash in his side. It was getting very hard to breathe; every intake of breathe caused another wave of agonising pain to bloom from his side. The clearing was spinning; Philip struggled to balance as the ground swayed beneath him and tree branches grasped at him. He could hear his heart thumping wildly in his ears, frantic as he quickened to death's door.

Was it the evening already? A cold darkness was settling in...

His rosary necklace was jingling in his violent efforts to walk. Philip moaned, and slumped against a rotting tree stump. He felt as dead as the tree he was leaning against.
"Almighty and Everlasting God, preserver of souls," Philip whispered through his dry lips, fingering his cross. "I call upon Thee, O Lord, to grant Thy healing, that the soul of Thy servant, at the hour of its departure from the body, may by the hands of Thy holy Angels be..." Another wave of pain racked his side, reducing his prayer to a low moaning.

Philip glanced weakly at his rosary necklace. The silver of the cross was clean - untainted from the horrors of the ordeal the last few days had been. How had he ended up here? In this forsaken, secluded forest, where supernatural, beautiful, fish-scaled beings - which weren't supposed to be real - were coldly murdered by humans - who weren't supposed to be so incapable of good. He had set out on his mission to spread God's word to his fellow men who had doubt in their hearts; but no, there was no doubt these men's hearts were certain, certain that they had no qualms sacrificing innocent creatures for their own selfish gain.

Was this God's plan for him then? To be kidnapped onto a pirate ship belonging to one of the most foul, wicked creatures on Earth, dragged along at gunpoint on a selfish quest for the water of eternal youth, but only to die alone from a meaningless injury after being caught in a crossfire.

A mermaid' skull propped up on a skeletal body half submerged in a pond stared at him from across the clearing. Something Syrena could have become. Philip's eyebrows kneaded, as he felt shame well up in him. This whole ordeal had been his fault. He had captured her, and sent her to her death. Philip looked up to the greying sky, a cold stone settling in his gut.

If not for him, Syrena wouldn't have become involved in this whole mess. She probably blamed him too, after she had been tied up for so long, slowly dying as she was kept between land and water. From the way she had disappeared so quickly after he had freed her, he was probably never seeing her again.

So this was the end then. He would die with a doubtful heart, uncertain of his faith and himself as a whole.

A sudden sob burst out of his throat, but it seemed he wouldn't even be allowed to release his grief. He was quickly racked with heavy spasms of agony, and he felt a new squirt of warm blood staining his hand. Philip gave a painful swallow, shivering. He glanced at the pond across him with half-lidded eyes.

The clergyman dragged himself there, not caring about his shredded fingers as they scraped against the rock. With a great effort he hoisted himself over the edge of the pond, and splashed a few handfuls of water on his side. Perhaps the pond would be merciful enough to provide some relief for that aching, burning pain slashing his side and burdening his heart. However the water gave no relief,only causing his side to throb even harder. Philip started to gasp. It was getting cold... oh so, cold...

An elfen head emerged out of the water, barely rippling the pond.

Philip raised his head slowly, not daring to believe.

"Are you hurt?" asked Syrena. Her large eyes looked up him doefully.

She came back - she came back! Philip's mind struggled to think as sudden thoughts started to flit around his head. But already he was minutes away from death; his mind felt like thick mud.

"Only in body," replied Philip, the words flowing off his lips before he could think any further. "My mind is in peace," Philip gazed at Syrena, "Because of you."

"I was lost; the winds, the tides... They were _ with a man's faith. For me..." Philip said hoarsely. "Only you."

Syrena leaned in closer, stroking his cheek gently. "I can save you," she pleaded. "You need only ask."

Philip leaned in closer. The edges of his vision were growing darker, giving Syrena an unearthly beauty. Philip felt lost in her eyes. It was a sin to lust over such a beautiful creature, was it not? Not only had he lost his faith, he had lost his ethic as well. He very well knew he did not truly love her; true love required months and years of laughter and grief loyally together to be geniunely true. From the moment he had seen her in that acursed bay, he had betrayed himself as he allowed himself to lust over her beauty, even managing to convince himself that he had loved her. Syrena was the embodiment of innocence, was one of the masterpieces of God's creations. He didn't deserve anything from such a pure being. But he wanted just one thing. He needed just one thing. "I seek only one thing..." whispered Philip. His heart felt like the anxious flapping of a moth's wing, becoming faster and faster, seeking the coming possible relief.

"And what is that?" Syrena drew in closer, and her lips hinted at a smile.

"Forgiveness." Philip said. "If not for me you would never have been captured."

Syrena gazed back at him, as though searching his face. She was looking for something. For permission. "Ask," she pleaded, her cool breath ghosting across his cheeks.
Philip heard his heart suddenly slow to a dull thumping as darkness finally seeped into his vision. Her face was now only a pale blur of beauty. Philip allowed his eyes to close.

"Forgive me."

There was a pause, and suddenly the world seemed to be roaring and singing and crying all at once and there was a deafening trill in his ears and the wind was rushing all around him.

Syrena crushed her lips against his.

The world bloomed warm for that single moment, as Syrena's virgin lips claimed his. Suddenly he was as light as a dragonfly wing as a cooling sensation ran through him from his mouth to his toes like liquid mint. Syrena's arms gently wrapped around his neck, and pulled him closer, lower, down; and he was thrust into an ocean of blue ice and honey.