Elza collapsed to her knees, the chaos of war surging and flowing all around her, the scythe she carried falling to the blood-soaked ground with a clanging noise. Her wounds, negligible, and the tears flowing from her face, unnoticed, she reached out for the pale, still mass of flesh that lay just a short distance from her. Choking on a sensation she had never felt before, she fell onto all fours, the tears now blinding her vision as they poured from her eyes onto the ground. The unforgiving earth drank her tears, just as it had drank the blood that seeped out from her sister’s dead body; unforgivingly, without remorse. Elza reached out, her arm trembling uncontrollably as her body began locking in place, each joint failing to move her closer to the person she valued above all else.

”Alice...”

The word slid out from deep within her chest in a quiet croak, not as a call but a realization. The tears continued to fall, just as the arrows that were launched from all around her, thudding into the dust like a cascade of raindrops. Struggling to move, she felt her gut wrench, and her throat convulsed as she vomited. She looked up with great effort, straining her neck, keeping her eyes fixed on her sister, her failure, her guilt, and her only reason to live. Crawling slowly through the mud and the blood and the acidic fluids she had just regurgitated, Elza inched her way, painfully, cutting her hands on the sharp rocks below, towards her sister. Her face contracted into a painful wince as an stray arrow pierced through her shoulder, but she continued to crawl.

”Alice...”

After what seemed like an eternity, Elza finally drew within reach of her sister’s cold, dead body. She began to reach out, but stopped. Her lungs began to heave as she hyperventilated, her skin breaking out in a cold sweat, which mingled with the blood that ran down her arm. Her throat had closed up with saliva, making breathing even more difficult, and she realized she was trembling. Why couldn’t she take hold of her younger sister? She could be still alive, she could just be unconscious! Elza drew her hands into a fist, the dirt wedging under her fingernails, and she reached out again.

”Alice...”

Another arrow fell, this time impaling the back of her hand, pinning it to the floor. The shock of the blow wrenched a shuddering gasp from her, and she felt the strength in her body drain out slowly, with the cold realization that she couldn’t move her hand. She was now crying, no, sobbing ever harder, and the tears fell thick with shuddering gasps. Propping herself up painfully with her the hand that was impaled, she reached out with her other hand, as a small bloom of hope blossomed in her heart. Perhaps she was still alive, perhaps she could still save her....

”Alice....”

Her hand grazed the cold, pale cheek of her sister. It was hard to the touch, from rigor mortis.

”....Alice....”

Elza surged forward, tearing her hand out from the arrow, collapsing onto her sister’s body. Shaking the rigid, dead flesh, Elza sobbed uncontrollably, not moving her eyes from Alice’s face, mauled and bloody from combat.

”Alice...”

^{”.....Alice.....?”}

^{”.....Alice....?!”}

^{”Alice....?”}

Elza gripped her sister’s shoulders, burying her face in Alice’s bloodied and torn clothes. Shuddering as she lay immobile, not reacting to the countless arrows that had landed near or on her, Elza felt something well up deep inside, as she felt the cold, dark fist of death crush the tender white bloom of hope in her heart. It surged up from her heart, through her throat, and it erupted from her mouth in a heart-rending scream.

”ALIIIIIIIIIIICE!”

Grasping the corpse of her sister, Elza staggered as she rose shakily to her feet, gripping the weapon her sister had wielded. Stumbling and tripping as she made her way through the throbbing masses. She winced at the blows her weakened body endured as monsters and warriors, both taking advantage of her weakened state, attempted to kill her. She heaved through the mobs, reaching the place she had dropped her only possession, falling to her knees as a strong blow to her back struck her.

If only I could bring her back! If only I could save her! Elza’s mind raced with the delusions of death, flooding her brain with ‘What ifs’ and ‘Whys’ as she dropped her sister in front of her, Alice’s cheek now smeared with the warm tears from Elza’s face, her neck and chest splattered with blood from the lethal wound. Elza gripped the scythe she had owned, her spirit and heart crushed, with only one solution in her mind, clear as day...

She gripped the shaft of the weapon, and leveled the edge to her neck. The throbbing masses, feeling a strange sensation, receded away from her, like the Red Sea parting for a prophet. Her heart shuddered in painful throbs, like a broken construct ripping itself to pieces, but as she drew the blade across the tender, pale skin of her neck, she felt a serenity she had never felt before in her life.

As Elza’s body fell forward, limp and lifeless, Elza’s mind realized there was a time she had felt this way. Long ago, when she had defended her beloved younger sister from the schemes of her traitorous father, Elza had also felt the same sense of belonging, and connection. The same sense of warmth and desire and hope. Elza’s eyes fluttered up as her face fell into the ground, stealing a last glimpse of her sister’s face.

She didn’t know the meaning of love, but she felt it just as much as anyone else did. And now she could see her sister, perhaps, in heaven. And perhaps she could introduce herself, and relive the lives they lost.

The scythe gleamed evilly as the splatters of blood from Elza’s neck and Alice’s wound mingled on the cold gem embedded in the blade, glowing faintly as she fell into the ground.

Elza lay motionless, blood pooling out around her neck, her hand outstretched, resting softly on the hand of her sister.

”...Perhaps....”

Perhaps not....