Lenna stood on top of the rock barricade, looking defiantly at the witch. She hadn't originally meant to arrive late to battle, but, after the things she'd been told, she'd felt that her appearance would play a vital role. She was dressed in the same outfit she'd worn the day she'd died, complete with holes and bloodstains. To combat the rosiness that had returned to her cheeks over the past couple of days, she'd dug through Mannonda's makeup stash to make her appear like the walking dead, with Mannonda's permission, of course. She'd even gone as far as to make it appear as if the open wounds were still present beneath her clothes.

The witch turned to her, ending her attack on Jareth, studying Lenna. She sniffed the air and smiled. "Quite the illusionist, I see."

Lenna said nothing.

"I can smell your life," the witch growled. "How you managed to survive that attack, I have no idea, but I'll make certain you don't survive today." With that, she snapped her fingers.

Lenna felt a deep stab of pain go through her back and into her chest and she gasped, her hand absently going to where the wound had been. She looked down as she felt something warm, sticky, and wet saturate her fingers. Pulling her hand back, she found that the wound had been reopened. She gasped, only to choke. Her other hand flew to her mouth when she coughed only to come away soaked like the other one.

She gasped in breaths as she looked up at the witch, then into Xaiden's lifeless eyes. With each breath, she coughed, each cough harder to control than the last. Finally, she fell to her knees, catching herself with her hands, and going into her final coughing fit, a fit which could only be ended by death. As blackness filled her eyes, she fell onto her side, barely feeling anything when the rock came in abusive contact with her body.

Sarah slowed in shock as she approached Jareth's fallen form. She had no idea what she'd expected to see, but this wasn't it. Her heart quickened as she rushed the remainder of the way, falling to the ground beside him.

"Jareth," she said, her hands trying to figure out what to do. His face was deathly pale and she could feel her heart break at the thought of him dead. It was clear that he was getting close as the weight of his eyes became evident when she watched him fight to pry them open.

A smile crossed his face as he looked at hers and he weakly grasped her hand.

"You're going to be alright," she declared, failing to keep the quiver out of her voice. "You have to be."

"No," he breathed. "This is it, Sarah."

She shook her head. "No," she said, her voice thick. "You're wrong." She swallowed hard, her throat feeling thick.

Jareth reached up and gently brushed her cheek with his fingers before resting his palm against it. "Don't try to convince yourself to believe what isn't real. And don't be upset. Simply accept it. I had no intention of living today. The fact that I know today will also be Deziktra's last made it much easier for me to accept. And seeing you one last time before going will make it a more peaceful journey."

Sarah felt his thumb brush away a tear that she hadn't even known was there. And that's when she realized she was clinging to the hand that was on her face. That's when it hit her that she hadn't been with him long enough to even imagine what it would be like with him gone. She supposed they had become close enough to friends for it to hurt, but never did she imagine it could hurt like this to lose someone she barely knew.

Jareth swallowed and his eyes closed. "It is time. Goodbye, m-"