"So, what is your name?"
The handsome, perfect black-haired man looked at her briefly, and replied, "Death."
But Amirix persisted. "No, I mean your real name. Death can't be your name. You had to start with something else." There was silence for a moment, then he began to speak. But his voice was quiet, low, as though he didn't want to be overheard.
"You're right. I began my life, many, many centuries ago, with a different name." Amirix waited patiently for Death, the tall, handsome, dark stranger, to reveal some small part of his past. "My name... used to be Kysero. Kysero Aronsson. I... I was destined to be the leader of our small village. But I had been hand-picked, and was destined to be... well, your people would call me the Grim Reaper." Amirix stared at Kysero, transfixed. His past had been much the same as hers, save that she had left her home willingly, not wanting to be put in a place of power. "And what of you? I recall that you changed your name, but not what it was."
Amirix took a second to remember. So many years ago, she had changed it, and now answered to Amirix Loresdaughter.
"I think... it was... Irya Meghansdaughter."
"Irya... I like that name."
"You're the first one to."
"I find that hard to believe."
"But it's true. Although I would like to keep the name Amirix."
"We're here," said Kysero briefly, gesturing at the small light at the end of the tunnel they had been traversing.
Amirix hesitated, the brightness blinding her. She knew not what lay ahead.
"It's okay," whispered Kysero, gently taking her hand. She let him pull her along, and she blinked when she emerged with the perfect figure out into the impossibly bright sunlight. But when her eyes adjusted, she gasped.
"It's..." she was at a loss for words. She took another step forward, keeping her fingers laced into Kysero's. She didn't want to let him go. He was the last vestige of memory she had left from her old life.
The perfect meadow before her was laced with colorful wildflowers of blue, red, pink, gold and orange. She sank to her knees, pulling Kysero with her. She reached forward, picking a small, violet, six-petal star-shaped flower.
"This one is the color of your eyes," she breathed, leaning her head into his chest. And Amirix reflected on all that had happened to her. She had left her ungrateful farm village, and become a well-known Mage, the Black Mage. She had fallen in love not once, but twice. And now she was in love with Death, in a place that only they knew about. And she was dead.
So much had happened in her short life. Lifting her chin, Kysero gently pressed his cool lips to Amirix's, leaning his head down slightly to keep their lips together. He moved his arms, continuing the kiss, so that they were wrapped around her torso, around her upper arms as it were. His long arms seemed to be unbelievably strong, though they did not sport large muscles as Zhoom's or Tomix's did. Amirix reached up with her slim hands, placing one on each side of Kysero's face. She remained on her knees, never wanting this to end. Kysero with her, wrapped together... forever.