Author's Note: Obviously none of this is mine, or I'd be getting paid for it.
The Lord of the Geats lies now on his slaughter-bed,
the leader of the Weathers, our loving provider,
dwells in his death-rest through the dragon's power.
Stretched out beside him, stricken with the knife,
lies his deadly adversary.
He didn't want to leave her here, with only the core to look after her. He was sentencing her to death by doing so; he was sure of it.
His blood-slick fingers shook as he fumbled with the wires. Buying her time, but nothing else. Not hope, not life, not even certainty of death. She could be there forever, her soul trapped in her sleeping body.
It wasn't right, not after all she had done. In his mind, she was a selfless benefactor fighting to free them. They had never met, but her footfalls throughout the facility had renewed him as surely as water quenched his thirst and food quelled his hunger.
Darkness was creeping in around the edges of his vision; he didn't have much time. He twisted the last wires, sealing the circuit and her fate.
He watched the monitors as his slipped deeper and deeper into the beckoning darkness.
In one, a beauty slept an unnatural sleep.
In another, a beast lay broken, debris scattered along the length of a thick braid of wiring.
