Evana felt the tears running down her face as she looked down at the pictures before her. There was the painted portrait of her and Yulrik, her first love, after smiling at the memory of the cheerful bard, she placed the painting into the flames of the fireplace.
She looked at the old faded picture of her and her next love, Fred, on their plantation, happily smiling. She laughed as she remembered that right after the picture had been taken, he had had to chase his best horse that had gotten loose. She burned that one too.
She looked at the black and white photograph of her and Timothy, the boy of her dreams. With a sob she held him close then threw him into the flames.
She turned her gaze to the grainy colored picture of her and James with his two children from his failed marriage both smiling up at her as they danced. She cried out in pain at the memory of him and let the picture fall into the flames beside her, burning her skin.
At last, she looked to the young Steven who was smiling not at the camera but at her as they both stood and presented their diplomas to the camera. She buried her face in her arms as she let the picture burn.
Evana's tears were flowing as she remembered them all, the only people she had ever loved. It urt to let them go.
But letting them go is what she had to learn to do, she couldn't hold on to them for another thousand years, she just couldn't.
Evana looked down at the ground, Yulric had no true grave, only a mound of stones that had long since crumbled in the mountains she had been forced to leave him in.
Fred had died from age, a smile on his lips as he said goodbye to his ageless love.
Timothy had fallen in war after telling his buddy to make sure she knew he loved her, his buddy had limped to her door, on leave due to his injury he had received in the fight that had taken Timothy.
James had come home one day to an empty home, she hadn't been able to bear watching him die. She hadn't seen him until she had heard of news of his daughter's wedding, he had insisted on one last dance. That was the last dance she had danced him.
Steven had had died due to a heart defect two months ago, three weeks after the photo. He had told her to let go.
So she let go.
She had let them all go.
She had to move forward, she had to continue her life, if life it could be called.
For she never aged, she just watched lives go by.