During the Ragnarok as the Creator rampages, Arle's beloveds take their final breaths in her arms. Requested by a tumblr anon!

Content warnings: Major character death, blood/bodily injuries, mentioned corpses.

Last Moments

The shield wouldn't last much longer. On her knees, Arle splayed her fingers out and screamed, pushing it forward to give them seconds to flee. The thunderous spell clashed with the shield, repelled for only a moment, but it was enough time for her to snatch their arms and propel them all into the burning forest.

Smoke choked her lungs, the Creator bellowing behind her. She counted the precious seconds needed to take Draco and Witch to a safe place, her eyes scanning through the flames that seared every tree to the core. She dashed over uprooted trunks and lunged over fallen bodies, some she didn't want to recognize. One of them coughed, cool blood now rolling down her shin, and she narrowed her eyes into a squint, ducking into a nearby cave, one she was thankful hadn't collapsed in on itself.

She pressed them against the wall, stepping away to survey the damage. Ruby red coated their lips and could have been mistaken for lipstick upon a quick glance. Arle inspected Witch's torso, the gash immense, and she didn't want to admit to herself that she could see slivers of broken bones and perhaps guts. Draco, on the other hand, lost her tail in the explosion, the thick appendage a fraction of its former self. Her wings were torn, charred to a decaying black. Her useless arms, broken and numbed, hung at her sides, and when Arle peered at her chest, the lesion was just as deep as Witch's wound, showing too much of what was underneath her skin.

She bit back her shriek, wishing she had been faster. The Creator had acted without her realizing His intentions. Shooting through them with those cursed, fiery lasers while she had her back turned, their screams wailing in her ears while hers had been silenced, she wished she could take back those past five minutes.

"Healing," she hissed, her hands coated in a snowy white aura, and she pressed her palms against their cheeks.

Witch coughed, her lips curling as the magic took effect. "A-ahaha, it seems we were a bit too slow."

"Not the time to be joking," Arle snapped, her brow furrowed.

Draco stared with listless eyes. She felt some strength in her arms, her bones mending and cracking together, but the slash remained. Blood drenched her qipao, and she snorted, "Damn. I really loved this dress. I don't know where the hell I'm gonna get another one like it since there's no more tailors."

"Ohoho! I'll make one for you at a costly price," Witch teased, reaching up to tickle her neck only to wince, pain shooting through her spine.

Gritting her teeth, Arle pressed harder, her fingers slick with their essence. Their friendly chatter shot past her, focusing entirely on healing the only two she had left. Her heart quaked, thudding between her ears as the the Creator's tendrils smashed through the planet, killing anyone unfortunate to be in the open.

"Why-why isn't it working?" Arle hissed, pulling her hands away. Clasping them together, she murmured too many Diacutes to count, the orange aura glowing brighter.

Witch and Draco watched the desperation grow on her face. They exchanged a glance, the former already understanding what had happened. Witch reached behind Draco's back and pulled her closer, and with what little strength she had left, Draco snatched Arle's wrist, ending her tumultuous spell.

"He's truly a God, isn't he? It's incurable magic." Sighing, Witch tilted her head as horror seized Arle's features.

"N-no, no, no, there must be something-!"

Another screech followed death throes. The Creator enacted His plan with a vengeance unlike anything Arle imagined. She had already last too many people, Schezo's sacrifice still fresh despite the years that had passed. She remembered Rulue piercing his through his heart only to fall just to protect her, and now, here she was gazing at her beloveds' injuries, and she was just as helpless as before.

Some fabled heroine she turned out to be. She couldn't even save the ones her heart grew fond for in the wake of the end of their world.

"Why did you two take those spells for me? I-I could-I could have..." She trailed off as Draco hacked up blood, the liquid dribbling down her sharp chin. "No, Draco, stay with me!"

Waving her free hand despite the agony tearing through her arm, she sneered, "H-heh heh! Don't worry about it. It's-it's fine, ain't it?"

"We could protect you just like you did for us so many times." Witch, lacking any signs of mischief, smiled the most genuine grin Arle had ever seen grace her paling face. "Taking those blows for you, we knew what we were doing."

"Yeah!" She sputtered, her brow knitting, and Arle squeezed her hand. "Protectin' you made it all worth it."

"This-this isn't what I wanted. Please, please, hang in there." Spells ran through Arle's mind, but with their bodies, so mangled and bloodied, cut through any rational thought. "I can't do this alone. I can't, I can't, I can't-!"

Arle raked her fingers through her hair, tears blurring their devastated bodies. They were all she had left, and she loved them with all of her broken, shattered heart. Their pain was her pain, and she sensed it a thousand times over with each grimace and groan. Magic failed her at her most crucial moment, and as the Creator laughed, all she could do was beg them to stay with her in their final moments.

"We always admired ya," Witch interjected, caressing Arle's cheek. "You were perfect, you know? So magical and powerful and beautiful. We loved that about ya."

Blinking her tears away, she took in their smiling faces, expressions ready for death. "Witch, Draco...no, please-"

"You were always the best. The prettiest and strongest." Draco huffed out a laugh, her chipped fangs exposed as she beamed. "No wonder we fell in love with you."

Arle didn't want hear such kind words, but her heart needed them to mend. She felt like a needle and thread had begun sewing it back together. Somehow, they were ready to go, their final admissions passing by their bloodied lips so easily, and with what little strength they had left, they leaned forward, placing chaste kisses upon her cheeks.

They were sloppy, messy, leaving behind sticky residue. Their grips upon her arms and hands faded, the light beginning to leave their eyes as they pulled away, and Arle screamed.

Booming detonations rocketed the world outside of the cave. Laughter exploded like rolling, rumbling thunder, and a flash of lightning blinded her. Stones and dirt began to fall upon them, and her wailing was silenced by the unceremonious cave in, her world enveloped in darkness as rocks crushed them.

When she came to, she didn't know how much time had passed. Weights pressed onto her, but before she could register the fabric against her face, the stench overpowered her. The rustic, copper scent swirled around her and filled her head. As if someone drenched her in gallons of ichor, she couldn't breathe. She gagged and flailed, her limbs swatting against the rocks that impounded her.

Pulling her head up, she realized what had happened when her gaze trailed down to her lap.

With the very last of their strength, Draco and Witch covered her before she could be crushed. Her only physical injury was a cut that splintered down the side of her temple. They had shielded her with their battered, broken, tormented bodies, and Arle sobbed, pressing her palms to her eyes, their names spilling out of her mouth.

She already sensed the Creator approaching, and he would give her no mercy. He wanted them all dead. To them, they were just names sliced through a list, dead and forgotten.

Arle had no choice. No magic would revive them. The Creator ensured that the moment he killed Schezo.

All she could was close their milky eyes. To them both, she kissed their brows and wished them well in their next life. Standing up, her armor cracked and eyes wet, she threw her arm out and fired off a lightning spell to dispel the rocks blocking the entrance.

Stomping out, Arle faced the monster who had killed everyone she ever loved. The warmth of their lips still fresh on her cheeks, Arle took the skies and roared just as they would have for her.

If they were all blessed to be revived, she hoped she could live out a pure life with them in their next world.