Disclaimer: I don't own Arkarian, I don't own The Dark.
I pray for unconsciousness. Sometimes, it blissfully comes, letting me slip into a delirious dream of recollections and fictions and torment. I say blissfully, because the physical pain is excruciating. Every square millimeter of my body is in agony, whether from loss of blood or direct injury.
When awake, I think of leaving a message for Isabel and Ethan, of somehow letting them now that Marduke lives. I move my hand, slowly, and dip one finger into the drying blood pooled on my chest, but I can only manage drawing a short straight line before passing out.
Memories flood me, distorted. The eight-year-old with pinpricks all over his palms, forced to sew at a glove maker's shop, is my age now; the child being slapped for dropping a cup of water has sapphire hair; my master's daughter on her knees in front of me has Isabel's face – my mind horrifies and revolts me with that one; my emaciated nine-year-old body opens hollow violet eyes; Marduke kills Sera and I am the one watching. I relive scenes of beatings, Marie being raped by our foster father after trying to stop him from hitting me with a stool. Isabel dies again, but I am not the one to save her; she only hears Ethan's voice.
And then, so do I; it is nothing more than a nonsensical mumble in my ears, but I know they are here now, and fight the fatigue that threatens to overpower me. I hear footsteps, and feel their vibrations. There is a hand on my arm, then another one, and I am rolled onto my back. I force my eyes to open, and Isabel's face, half-hidden behind a veil of sweaty golden strands, swims into my blurred view. My breath catches and I whisper her name.
"Save yourselves," I blink to clear my vision. "It's too late for me. Lathenia is after you. And there's something you must know." I begin pronouncing Marduke's name, but Isabel's finger stops my lips.
"No, don't speak! You have to conserve your energy. I'm not leaving without you, Arkarian."
I suck in a breath, as deep as my damaged lungs allow it. Straining, I lift up my head an inch. "You must be careful -"
"We know, Arkarian." A tear falls on my cheek. She is crying. Incredible sorrow hits me: I will die without ever being with her.
"We know that Marduke has somehow returned from the dead."
A sense of relief washes over me, but I have no strength left. My head hits the marble floor. Sounds die out and vision fades to black. I feel a pang of regret and a strange sense of peace.
I am ready to die.