Author's Note. This compilation doesn't have a lot of reviews, but strangely, I don't care :) I like doing them.
Mag's perspective of the final seconds of her life in a somewhat poetic form.
The night is cold, bearing neither sympathy nor mercy. The moon gleams an iridescent light, white upon white. There are no other hues—only this which hangs heavily upon her. With certain finality, she gives a peck on his lips and dances straight to the mist. It wraps its tender arms around her, engulfs her. The pain quickly passes, becoming what she skeptically believes is happiness.
Death and its tendrils are sweet.
They offer peace, and eternal rest. An escape from a world otherwise unavoidable.
Her knees buckle and she crumples to the ground. Her heartbeat slows. She feels the life draining from her body made fragile by time. Her eyelids flutter close, her soul barely hanging on to consciousness. Her chest moves only slightly now, and she knows the end is near. Yet amazingly, she does not fear.
With a soft, last sigh, she bids the cruel world goodbye.
Death and its tendrils are sweet.