The Wizened Hag is what brings their brief story to an end.
When the monster scoops Vitalis up from the front line of their party and dumps her into a bubbling pot, Droullin feels her heart stop.
When she hears her lover scream in agony, darkness presses in at the fringes of her vision.
When her attacks do nothing but bounce uselessly off the cast iron pot, her ears begin to ring.
She realizes midway through the fight that if Vitalis dies, she might not be able to go on without her.
When finally, finally, their crumbling party manages to fell the twisted hag and her pot spills its contents onto the ground, Droullin sprints instantly to Vitalis's side. She falls to her knees beside her lover's burned, battered body, tears already leaking down her cheeks. Deep down she knows that it is too late.
"Vitalis," she says shakily, hesitating to touch her lest she cause more pain. "Vitalis!"
There is no response.
Droullin begins to pray with desperate intensity, versebook open in her trembling hands, but she cannot find the faith to heal. She is useless in the moment that her companion needs her most. She tries to staunch the hellion's bleeding wounds with her hands, but Vitalis's life force slips through her fingers at a steady pace.
"We must go!" Fitzroy shouts from someplace behind her, already halfway into a retreat.
Droullin ignores him. She is lost in heavy, piercing eyes that are fading as she watches. "Please," she begs the Light and the Dark and whomever will listen. "Please, no. Not her."
Vitalis still bleeds. One of her hands rises shakily to clasp Droullin's against her. She doesn't cry out; doesn't beg or protest as she is dragged to the brink of death. She simply breathes raggedly and holds Droullin's gaze. She draws her strength from within.
Perhaps Droullin should learn to do the same. The Light is failing her, and she trembles with hysteria. She's never watched a loved one die before.
It takes her too long to realize that Vitalis has guided her hand to the band around her neck. It is slick with blood and blackened with soot, now, but the bird skull is smooth and familiar beneath her touch. Vitalis curls her fingers around it, and her unspoken meaning is clear:
Take it. Remember me.
Droullin nods, and Vitalis's distress seems to ease slightly. Her fingers squeeze Droullin's once, hard, and then fall away.
"Come!" Fitzroy's shout shatters the moment from right by her ear. "She is lost!"
A gauntleted hand closes around her wrist and yanks, and Droullin is wrenched away from her lover's waning body. Her only comfort is that the amulet comes free in her hand, still warm from Vitalis's touch. She is not left completely bereft.
She still wails as the man-at-arms drags her away and her lover's night-dark eyes fade into the gloom for the last time.
…