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Description
Flames burst and crackled all around them, methodical in its erratic manner as it burned nearer and nearer. The high, wooden beams up above turned to black ash, or thundered down from their lofty perch, tearing down that which they had held once so dear. In simple, terrible terms: it was over. The castle was slowly crumpling in on itself in death, in ruin; the fire was an early scavenger, was all. Sahale had been withered for quite some time, and now its mortal remains were falling to the same end as its spirit, ravaged by the plague of its people. The flames burned white-hot, and the bronze statues of Fate and Chance that stood proudly in positions of honor in the Hall wept openly, metal tears streaming down their cheeks even as their own figures succumbed to the greed of the fire. All that had once stood for power and grace, the beauty of the modern world… It would be no more than a memory come morning, and every ash would be lost to the Four Winds once Eurana rode along the dawn's train. Tapestries and paintings, the carved wooden chairs and tables; nothing was spared…absolutely nothing.

Rapid, panicked steps slapped against the marble floor and were just as quickly silenced, a loud thump of a body striking the firm ground, echoing the whirr of an arrow that had found its mark. A whimper escaped raw and bitten lips as fingernails scraped futilely for some sort of purchase in the marble stone, a male of tender age trying to scramble to his feet, to run, to flee, to fly far, far awa-

The youth was once again introduced to the floor harshly as a booted foot pressed down between his shoulder blades, the tip of the boot pushing cruelly against the yew arrow lodged in his bleeding flesh. A cry this time was ripped from his lips, even as his whimper devolved into incoherent babbling. Hot breath scraped along his velvet soft cheek, and his bright, green eyes were brighter still with fear, fear for the one who loomed over him, who whispered in his ear so gently, so softly…

"You promised, Oliver. Don't you remember your promise?"

The words were needles of ice in his heart, the physical pain a sweet counterpoint to his anguish, and suddenly a scream was wrenched from his soul as his tormentor stepped upon the feathered arrow embedded in the flesh of his back. The shaft broke off even as the head was driven in deeper.

"'TILL DEATH DO US PART', Oliver!"

There was a madness that ruled that voice and drove that mind, fanning the flames of ambition to the monstrous wildfires of hell. That same madness had withered the very heart that Oliver had loved her for. Tresses of white, silken hair were flicked back over sweat-soaked shoulders, dark soot marking very clearly where drops of perspiration had dribbled down her pallid skin.

"Please, Marian-" He mumbled.

She swooped down upon him, cutting him short, and green eyes shut closed, hoping that the end was swift when it came but her arms enveloped him ever so gently. She brushed a finger lightly down his cheek as her feather-soft lips pressed sweetly against his temple. Marian held him to her bosom dearly, stroking his velvet skin as tenderly as the first day they had met. Had it been so short a while? How had it all gone so wrong in so little time? Oliver's emerald eyes flickered to her face, beads of sweat tumbling over the creases in his brow. Her sapphiric eyes drank in the sight of him affectionately, her love not without its layer of madness over it. "Yes, my love?" She asked ever so kindly.

"Marian…" His voice broke, blood mingling with his sweat and trickling down the side of his oval face. "Marian…let me go. Please, Marian." The castle continued to fall to pieces around them but she shook her head warmly, smiling even.

"No, Oliver…it can't be done."

"Marian, we're going to die."

"Yes, Oliver." She admitted, nodding candidly. A sob fell away from him and in some room nearby, the ceiling collapsed, tons of stone crushing the marble floor below. The end was near. Raggedly sucking in a deep breath, his emerald eyes lay upon her soft features one last time.

"I hate you, Marian." He whispered tragically.

"Yes, Oliver." She murmured in a dream-like tone. "I love you, too."

All that tied Sahale's last prestige to the mortal world went up in flames, the last two monarchs clutching each other in death just as tightly as they had never been in life.

Description
Flames burst and crackled all around them, methodical in its erratic manner as it burned nearer and nearer. The high, wooden beams up above turned to black ash, or thundered down from their lofty perch, tearing down that which they had held once so dear. In simple, terrible terms: it was over. The castle was slowly crumpling in on itself in death, in ruin; the fire was an early scavenger, was all. Sahale had been withered for quite some time, and now its mortal remains were falling to the same end as its spirit, ravaged by the plague of its people. The flames burned white-hot, and the bronze statues of Fate and Chance that stood proudly in positions of honor in the Hall wept openly, metal tears streaming down their cheeks even as their own figures succumbed to the greed of the fire. All that had once stood for power and grace, the beauty of the modern world… It would be no more than a memory come morning, and every ash would be lost to the Four Winds once Eurana rode along the dawn's train. Tapestries and paintings, the carved wooden chairs and tables; nothing was spared…absolutely nothing.

Rapid, panicked steps slapped against the marble floor and were just as quickly silenced, a loud thump of a body striking the firm ground, echoing the whirr of an arrow that had found its mark. A whimper escaped raw and bitten lips as fingernails scraped futilely for some sort of purchase in the marble stone, a male of tender age trying to scramble to his feet, to run, to flee, to fly far, far awa-

The youth was once again introduced to the floor harshly as a booted foot pressed down between his shoulder blades, the tip of the boot pushing cruelly against the yew arrow lodged in his bleeding flesh. A cry this time was ripped from his lips, even as his whimper devolved into incoherent babbling. Hot breath scraped along his velvet soft cheek, and his bright, green eyes were brighter still with fear, fear for the one who loomed over him, who whispered in his ear so gently, so softly…

"You promised, Oliver. Don't you remember your promise?"

The words were needles of ice in his heart, the physical pain a sweet counterpoint to his anguish, and suddenly a scream was wrenched from his soul as his tormentor stepped upon the feathered arrow embedded in the flesh of his back. The shaft broke off even as the head was driven in deeper.

"'TILL DEATH DO US PART', Oliver!"

There was a madness that ruled that voice and drove that mind, fanning the flames of ambition to the monstrous wildfires of hell. That same madness had withered the very heart that Oliver had loved her for. Tresses of white, silken hair were flicked back over sweat-soaked shoulders, dark soot marking very clearly where drops of perspiration had dribbled down her pallid skin.

"Please, Marian-" He mumbled.

She swooped down upon him, cutting him short, and green eyes shut closed, hoping that the end was swift when it came but her arms enveloped him ever so gently. She brushed a finger lightly down his cheek as her feather-soft lips pressed sweetly against his temple. Marian held him to her bosom dearly, stroking his velvet skin as tenderly as the first day they had met. Had it been so short a while? How had it all gone so wrong in so little time? Oliver's emerald eyes flickered to her face, beads of sweat tumbling over the creases in his brow. Her sapphiric eyes drank in the sight of him affectionately, her love not without its layer of madness over it. "Yes, my love?" She asked ever so kindly.

"Marian…" His voice broke, blood mingling with his sweat and trickling down the side of his oval face. "Marian…let me go. Please, Marian." The castle continued to fall to pieces around them but she shook her head warmly, smiling even.

"No, Oliver…it can't be done."

"Marian, we're going to die."

"Yes, Oliver." She admitted, nodding candidly. A sob fell away from him and in some room nearby, the ceiling collapsed, tons of stone crushing the marble floor below. The end was near. Raggedly sucking in a deep breath, his emerald eyes lay upon her soft features one last time.

"I hate you, Marian." He whispered tragically.

"Yes, Oliver." She murmured in a dream-like tone. "I love you, too."

All that tied Sahale's last prestige to the mortal world went up in flames, the last two monarchs clutching each other in death just as tightly as they had never been in life.