Death of the Immortal

Death of Sola.

She knew the day was coming.
As she woke in the morning, curled up in the blankets on her bed, she saw the lights. She blinked them off.
Sitting at breakfast, she saw her sister crying. She bit her lip. Something was wrong.
She looked down and concentrated on her oatmeal.
She took a bite, but felt sick and spat it out. She got up and pulled him out of his chair. "What's happening," she whispered.
He sighed. "The prophet said you were going to die."
She hugged him, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Damn the prophet. I want to live."
"I'm so sorry." He kissed her lightly on the top of her head.
She pulled away.
The light dimmed. She raced to the basement, and grabbed her sword.
She looked at her reflection in the metal.
What had gone wrong.
"Sister?" echoed a voice.
It was her elder sister.
She looked up. She was standing on the stairs, holding her staff. "Don't fight today. Please."
"It's fate." She pushed her aside and walked up the stairs, new strength flooding through her veins.
As she walked onto the field, and saw her enemy, she knew she had met her killer.
The shadows outnumbered her.
She raised her sword.
They came toward her, slow at first, then faster and faster.
She deflected them with blows of her weapon.
And then an inky black shadow burst through the ground at her feet, knocking her backwards.
She smelled lavender.
It used her sword against her, slitting her throat quickly. Golden blood spilled out. She choked.
Her time had come.
The light surrounded her.
She walked towards it.
She smiled.
She had found fate.