Within the rumbling depths of a city on a collision course with Lungmen, she awoke. It wasn't bombastic or theatrical by any means, it was as if a mere whisper of existence left.
The constant battles within the deepest abyss one might call their mind exhausted her greatly. Be it victory or defeat, a smidgen of herself, the building blocks of what made her - her, would be lost. Tiny scratches on the mirror's surface would turn into invisible little cracks, slowly spreading until the shards started falling out. She only had one purpose left, and so Raven took her last flight.
Emerging yet again from the grungy damp depths of the city's underbelly, she didn't bother to take notice of how quiet everything has become up above. This far from the tower and the city square, the only thing that could be heard was the skittering of roaches, not even rats bothered to stick around.
Yet in her trek towards the tallest landmark there was, she encountered someone, an errant man patrolling on his lonesome, his silhouette a splash of white with orange accents in the otherwise gray and dead cityscape.
Raven's sword that she used again Talulah melted down into something resembling a rapier, length of the blade looked uneven and wavy as if an amateur blacksmith tried to forge a blade for the first in his career, and yet the point of the blade looked pristine.
The man's death was swift, a single strike to the heart and the brain severed whatever life he had left after he became an Infected. She pilfered his mask and crudely fashioned his coat in a cloak, draping it over herself and continued moving forward.
The steady advance of a person once so full of feeling, of color and life, was interrupted by another patrol, a group this time. The leader of the tiny pack tried to ask her something but was struck down before the rumble of thought became vocalized, his compatriots soon followed. One of them had a crude map of the place scribbled down, it was mostly unintelligible yet it got the point across. She wouldn't have to walk far.
He felt it, the curse he set on a child in a fit of rage upon witnessing her snuffing life out of one of his comrades. She was near, and he was certain that she felt his presence as well. He expected his final advance to be against Rhodes Island, yet one of his many mistakes finally came back to haunt him.
For a moment Patriot thought to gather his men, but he decided to right his mistake in single combat, she deserved at least that much.
They met upon a crumbling street, some buildings slowly falling apart, showering them in a gentle rain of concrete dust.
"It's. You."
For a long moment she stayed silent, only tilting her head quizzically while looking at the towering frame of her opponent. Then her shoulders slumped slightly as she let out a sigh.
"...after all these years of searching, when no cost was too great for me, I find you with barely any mind left to think, with nary a will to break, with no voice left to cry suffering."
She slowly took a ready stance with her shoddy rapier, finding her voice for one last time.
"You burned away the blinding light that filled my dreams, destroyed my aspirations, took away my future, and while I still draw breath… I will grind you down, Patriot."
She launched herself at the hulking frame of her adversary, but her strike was blocked by his shield, the rapier cracked and she was pushed back. Soon with gentle wisps of flame the blade reformed and she would strike him again, and again, and again.
Their pointless dance continued for what felt like eternity, the once unstoppable force met the once immovable object. Her rapier would break and reform with each strike, his shield would slowly crumble, shard by measly shard.
And once both finally had enough, his halberd would meet her rapier and both would be swallowed by a cascade of sparks. The very air would ignite around them.
And both would collapse, pierced through their core by their weapons, with her soul having nothing left to give, and his body succumbing to his Oripathy.