Distant shadows moved around my vision. I could feel my own blood spreading over my hands. Why had I thought for one moment he loved me or even cared for me? Oddly though, the only pain I felt was that of my heart breaking, and I couldn't explain why it was. I hadn't expected him to care for me. My loving him was just an odd fluke; it was just Fate's way of playing a cruel joke.
I sensed him moving close to me. He laid a firm hand on my shoulder and rolled me onto my back. I looked up at him, my vision still blurred by the first flash of light. I couldn't make out the expression on his face, but I knew he wasn't smiling. I could feel it in my mind.
I forced a defiant smile to my lips. "You planned this from the beginning," I said hoarsely, struggling for air. Now that I was on my back, each breath was painful.
"No. Only when you got in my way did I plan this," he replied calmly.
I laughed slightly. "I'll never tell you where that necklace is."
"Ah, but I already know where it is you've taken it. My brother has it. But I also know he won't give it to me. For that is his choice, and the power of the opal won't let me take it by force. So, I shall simply have to find another way to charm a cleric of Paladine."
"Make them love you, just as you did to me."
I felt him pause. Did he believe me? What was this man of mystery and deceit feeling? I drew in another, more painful breath. I could feel my life slipping quickly away from me. It was like trying to keep water cupped in my hands. The life was flowing unhindered away.
"Raist," I whispered. "I loved you and cared for you. That'll never change, even in death. Goodbye."
"Goodbye, Inanna," he replied coldly. "I wish my feelings were that of yours. I care only for myself."
"I know," I breathed. "I've always known that." I closed my eyes then, seeing and feeling no more. He may have won the battle, but in the end, I knew before I took my last breath, I had won the war. Something told me he would never become a god. Something inside him would change. Somehow, I simply knew.
