Last Breath

A dark romance about the true meaning of love, and why it is truly the strongest power in existence. Not for the faint-hearted. Reviews are much encouraged!

LAST BREATH

By:

Lyana the High Mage

I have to reach him before it’s too late. I need to find him, to be with him, to tell him that I love him, because I am going to die.

I can feel my strength ebbing away with every step, flowing from the knife wound that has laid open my side. I try to run, but it’s just too painful for me now. I can hear the steady drip of blood hitting the ground. I grit my teeth and will myself to walk faster, despite the agony. I have to be beside him one final time, before the world ends.

Flushed with heat from all my running, I drop my cloak and leave it lying on the grass, unable to burden myself with the trouble of carrying it any longer. The gash on my side protests sorely at being exposed to open air like this, but I ignore the pain. It doesn’t matter. I tell myself sternly. Your life is at an end anyway. Nevertheless, I cut off a wide strip of fabric from the hem of my dress and try as best as I can to bind my wound with it. The result is a barely passable, mildly itchy, and excruciatingly painful bandage that probably does greater harm than good, but gives me a sense of purpose that cancels out any sense of damage it might cause. With greater dignity than one with a dress as short as mine should own, I resume my half-run towards the house on the hill to meet my death.

Just when I think I can walk no further, the mansion is there before me; a tall, bone-white monstrosity with large windows and surrounded by an austere black gate, which seems to glare down at me mockingly as I shove it open and stumble onto the grounds. The darkness of night is broken only by the glint of the stars, the pale shine of the moon, and the solitary light coming from one of the upper-floor rooms in the otherwise dead house. I know that that is where he waits for me, where I will see him for the final time. Although I have only a vague recollection of his face, what little I can remember of it gives me the strength to continue. The front doors are open for me, as they always were, and my hesitation before them is more due to fatigue than fear. Pushing both aside, I step into the house boldly and make straight for the stairs, pausing only to wince slightly as the doors thunder closed behind me. The way to his bedroom is dark and shadowy, but I need no light to guide me there, for blind, deaf and dumb I would have remembered the way to him.

I pass many doors, paintings, hallways, and staircases, but reject them all and continue my fanatic trek towards him, led only by what instinct my mind chooses to let me retain. Already, I can feel my mind shutting down, feel myself slip away. One more turn… I shudder when the pain rips through me. Last one. There! There he is!

After all my waiting, the last few steps are truly the most difficult. I totter towards the light, trip on my own feet and fall into a heap just outside his door, cursing my feet for betraying me. “Maedhras!” I call out weakly, unable to move. “Help me!”

A heart-stopping pause. “Lyana?” He calls, hurling himself out into the hall to check. He lets out a cry of shock at my appearance and lifts me into his arms without delay. “What happened to you?” He asks, ignoring the blood now soaking through his fine linen shirt. Even in my present state, his beauty astounds me and makes the entire world stand still to bow at his feet. He is clad in a snowy-white shirt that billows open at the chest and is pulled in tight at the stomach. His ivory skin, barely a touch darker than his shirt, is displayed to good advantage by the neckline that plunges to his sternum. His black breeches are tied at the waist with green ribbon and his soft brown boots make no sound at all as they pound the ground.

After taking in my fill of his body, my eyes travel to his face. His dark green eyes are fixed on my side, his full lips twisted in a worried frown. His otherwise smooth brow is furrowed in anxiety, and a flush has risen up to color his cheeks, which are surrounded by curls so black they seem to shine. Every thought in my head vanishes as I reach out to stroke his chin, trying to fix every detail of his appearance into my mind before it all goes away.

“Who did this?” He asks angrily. A smile heavy with irony tugs at my lips, but he does not wait for an answer as he lays me down gently on his bed and rips my makeshift bandage away. I let out a cry of pain as he prods the area around the gash with tentative fingers and swears violently. “It’s infected.” He mutters darkly. “Just wait here. I’m going to get something to clean this with.” He bends down and kisses me, stroking the hair off my face with his un-bloodied hand. “Don’t move.” He orders, smiling briefly before dashing out of the room.

“No.” I protest weakly, but he is already gone. Cursing the waste of such valuable time, I sigh and slump back into the pillows, fighting to keep conscious until he returns. It seems an eternity before he does; bearing a bowl of warm water, some clean rags, and a pot of some nasty-smelling herb he intends to smear all over my wound. He sets the bowl down on the nightstand and sits down beside me on the bed, beckoning me closer. I shy away from the foul stench of the unguent, but he drags me back towards him and holds me down with one hand. “I told you not to move.” He growls, his voice more anxious than angry. “Now sit still while I clean this.”

He has his knife out and is cutting away the bloodied parts of my bodice so he can have a clearer view of the lesion. Pieces of bloodstained black cloth and string fall to the floor as he exposes my skin to his gaze. He winces as and swears again when he gets a proper look at the size of the wound. “God’s mercy, Lyana. Was the blade poisoned?” He asks, clearing away the worst of the blood and pus emanating from the slash.

I nod, gritting my teeth against the pain. His hand is softer and gentler than baby’s breath, but it still hurts more than it did actually getting the wound. Then again, getting it didn’t pain me that much, since I did it for him. “Essence of Nightshade.” I gasp.

He lets out another savage oath and stops in mid-insult to the mother of whoever hurt me like this. His hand freezes against my side as he whispers, “How did you know that?”

I smile sardonically again, and he drops the washcloth in horror. “You surely don’t mean to tell me that you did this to yourself?”

I nod slightly, and his face pales. He stares at me with terror etched all over his face. “Why?” He whispers, in such a sad, heartbroken way that makes me want to sob relentlessly. Instead, I choose to answer. “Because I won’t live without you.” I say quietly, taking the bloody cloth and placing it beside the bowl on the nightstand. “Leave it. I used enough Nightshade to ensure its incurability.” I state flatly, as he reaches for the ointment and cloth. “If you die, Maedhras, I die as well.”

“I won’t die for some time yet, Lyana.” He snaps, snatching the cloth back and dabbing salve into the wound relentlessly.

“Oh? How long?” I try to reach for the ointment, but he pulls it away and scoops out more from the pot. I ignore that and continue angrily. “A fortnight? A month at most? Why wait, Maedhras?” I cry exasperatedly.

His mouth is set in a thin line, and he disregards everything I’ve just said. “What were you thinking, doing this to yourself?”

“That I couldn’t live without you.” Already the pain is making me lightheaded, and all the strain I had placed on myself earlier is coming back to haunt me. My vision clouds, and my heart flutters in my chest. Automatically, he realizes something is wrong. “Lyana?” He asks worriedly, all traces of anger gone from both our voices. “What is it?” He breathes.

“I’m dying.” I whisper thickly, groping for his hands. He drops both cloth and pot to grasp them. I say it with such an awful finality neither of us doubts it. He gasps and begins to sob. “Don’t cry, love.” I say, feeling his tears drop to my cheeks as he leans in to kiss me. “I’m happier this way. I won’t have to live without you for even a second, now.”

“But I will have to live without you!” He protests, taking my face in his hands and pressing his cheek to mine.

“Not for too long. Don’t cry!” I beg again, as his sobs grow louder. “Please stop crying. Would you deny me my dying wish?”

“How can I not cry?” He asks, and it breaks my heart to hear what it costs him to keep himself under control. “So many things between us are unsaid.”

“Because there is no need to say them.” I answer back, my own voice faint and weak. Already I can see nothing but the glint of his eyes. Such a brilliant green…oh, how I shall miss it. I swallow and whisper, “There is nothing left to say, save that I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He weeps, kissing me again and again until I feel nothing more. My last thought is, No more tears. Not one. Ever.

Please.

Author's Note

Eh heh heh...
What can I say? I'm a sucker for an unhappy ending. You may now shoot me =P
I think I have a problem with descriptions. What do you think?

Reviews

[Jo]

Wow, I have to say I was completely drawn into this story from the first sentence and that I'm a sucker for unhappy endings, too. I don't know why exactly, lol. I think they may be a bit easier to write instead of happy ones. But anyways, I'm not usually a fan of present tense, but you executed it brilliantly. Present tense usually exhausts me, but this was a refreshing read. I loved it! There are a few things I want to mention though.

There are a couple of places where you have commas where I feel you don't need them. For example: "I have to be beside him one final time, before the world ends." It can work with the comma there, but I think it would flow better without it.

Also, when your characters speak, there shouldn't be a period at the end if it follows something like 'said' or 'ordered'. Another example:
"I'm dying." I whisper...

It should be:
"I'm dying," I whisper...

Most your sentences also tend to be a bit long. It can tire a reader so I suggest that you try to alternate between short and long sentences.

Ok, one last thing then, I promise. You did tend to use a lot of adverbs. In my opinion, you shouldn't only depend on these. I'll give you an example. (I hope you don't mind)

"Maedhras!" I call out weakly...

Instead of weakly (although it will take more words), you could do something like this:

"Maedhras!" I call out from between trembling lips with what little breath I force out of my lungs...

Maybe longer than necessary, but that's what I could do off the top of my head. But by doing this, it can add more to your writing. Just a suggestion though.
Oh, and you definitely don't have a problem with descriptions. At least not that I noticed. I really liked this story. I can't explain how much I did. The flow of it was beautiful, your dialogue and execution is phenomenal and there is no doubt that you have a strong voice. I've fallen in love with your style, I must say. The emotion was strong, too. Excellent work.