Sorry about the weird code that was here before...I don't know what that was.


Through the blur of sound and colour, Sybil was dying. She knew that much—she could feel her mind, her entire being fizzling in and out of existence at a constant rate. They had warned her, all throughout her life, throughout her training, throughout her career, that this is how it felt to lose your mind. With every second under Selene's manipulation, she was losing coherency, will, and memories, precious moments stolen from within her by Channary's bastard daughter.

Sybil didn't stop fighting. She knew that she would never come out of this whole, and hell, she doubted that she would even come out at all. But she wouldn't let Selene take her memories, floating through an infernal abyss of dark fog.

The pride and honour in being named head thaumaturge.

The pleasure she took in serving her queen.

The first time they kissed.

The first time they made love.

Levana's approval. Levana's smile. Levana's face, her real face, beaming with rare moments of happiness. All of these things she would give her life for. And now, she supposed she was. The dull thrum of a ship's engines did nothing to lull Sybil away from her fading memories, and she began to laugh in sorrow, loss, and pain. She had forgotten Levana's smile. She had forgotten Levana's face. She was dying for someone, she didn't know who, and she wondered if this person would be sad when Sybil was gone.

After a while, there wasn't even anything to think about. She roared in laughter.

The end was nigh.