The Final Battle

It'd been a rainy night when he'd found her. She was covered in blood, just like the day she'd met him.

In her hand, she held the head of their king, but seeing as there was a new army in tow, he'd been easily replaceable.

That was alright, she held no grudge against the new king.

"Demon," they'd shouted, "you've killed too many."

She'd laughed. The resentful souls recognized this bunch.

"Haven't you killed more?"

But judging by the looks on their faces they hadn't listened. She was a demon, after all. Who would listen to a demon? She'd probably just trick them.

Nonetheless, when she looked at them, she felt something strange. It was the same feeling she'd had when looking at the people trapped in those glass tubes. But this time, the feeling she had wasn't wrong. It wasn't full of the resentment she'd felt when she was near death.

So someone had figured it out. Before the crown too.

They'd discovered magic.

She stood before their army; one against thousands. It was a scene from a painting, but it didn't feel beautiful; all there was was endless death and cruelty.

Suddenly the crowd split. A man on a black horse walked through. As soon as she saw his black messed up hair she recognized him. He looked the same, just taller. But he also carried with him a sense of dread, as though he'd lost all that had mattered to him, like a walking ghost.

Her originally silver hair had been dyed red from blood and she'd become twisted into someone who only sought vengeance. But she felt no regret. The her that he'd known was crowded in resentment.

"Why did you kill them?" he asked her. His voice was tired and disdainful, as though he didn't care for their lives and was asking because he had to.

She responded simply, "Because they killed me."

A sense of understanding washed over him.

Even so, he raised his arm, and the army behind him ran forwards. Their swords were stronger this time and their bombs harsher. She dodged, the soldiers around her blowing up into smoke.

She could feel their incoming attacks, hear their individual cries, and taste the stale air where their bombs had dropped. She was only a step from invincibility.

But magic made that step even wider.

Through their bombs she was finally burnt, her skin finally cut, and the battlefield drenched in the blood of her enemies was now drenched in hers. But he sat on his horse in the middle of the chaos, and she stayed standing until he was the only one left.

"Step down from your horse, Duke," she said. There was a happiness in her voice that he didn't catch as he got down. She'd noticed the little metal box in his hands as he placed it carefully in his pocket.

As he walked toward her, she felt the sharp pain of air rushing through her lungs. The pain made her feel alive.

The fire from the bombs had scorched the bloodied earth to a crisp red, and as he walked, blood stained his boots. He drew his sword.

"I'm ready to die if you are," she said.

His face remained icy, "I still have someone to meet, so I won't be able to join you on your descent to Hell."

And with that, their swords clashed.

With the strength of the resentment behind her, she could hold on, but the magic on his sword was different. It was more explosive. Every hit felt like a clash with fire, and exhaustion was overtaking her.

Resentment could only bring her past her breaking point for so long, and that wasn't the only problem. She couldn't bring herself to kill him.

He began to overpower her, pushing her back as she retreated through the bloodshed.

Though his sword had the same feel as the lab she'd found on her mission all those years ago, she knew it wasn't the product of human experimentation. There was no resentment or sacrifice attached.

He was the one who'd brought her out of hell, and so he had every right to push her back. Her life was his to take.

A sharp pain hit her as she looked downwards. A metal rod stuck through her ribs. She'd been stabbed in the heart.

As she looked at him, she couldn't help but smile.

"The number is 341."

In the end, she was selfish; she had to tell him.

When he heard her, he let go of his sword and she fell to the ground, pushing herself up into a seated position. His eyes widened as his ghost-like features once again regained some clarity. Pulling out the metal box from his pocket, he slowly dismantled it until there was a single box with a keypad left. Then, he typed in the numbers. It opened.

His hands shook as he stared at the letter in the middle of the box. It was something she'd written him long ago.

"Why didn't you say anything?" he asked.

"I didn't want you to be a traitor too," she said, "and I've done what I need to. I'm ready to die."

He knelt down to her level, placing his free hand over her hair. A sense of familiarity lingered.

As he thought back, even their first conversation on the battlefield mirrored his first conversation with her.

Why hadn't he noticed sooner?

"Open the letter," she said as a drop of blood ran out of her mouth; she clamped it shut.

He listened to her and opened it. A tear ran down his face. She lifted her arm with the strength she had left to wipe it.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I'm so sorry."

She patted his head reassuringly.

"It's all right, I did what I had to."

"I told you I'd bring you back."

She looked at the sky.

"You wouldn't have been able to bring me back if you tried."

He hugged her, and now it wasn't only him crying. Silent tears fell down her face as well.

"Goodbye," she whispered.

"Fuck," the boy cried, "if you turned evil and wouldn't return I would've stayed with you. As long as it's you."

She'd managed to tell him the one thing he'd failed so many times to say to her.

The body in his arms turned cold and as he felt her pulse he cried even harder. For a few more days he sat there, the tears drying on his face as the sea of his emotions gradually calmed. Standing up, he took the sword from her body as he walked to his castle.

Under one tree, he found the gravestone the girl had once made for her mother. Fixing up a hole next to it, he placed the girl inside. Then, after creating a makeshift gravestone himself, he bowed.

After what felt like an eternity, he stood up and walked away. She would never see him again.

Ciel watched the world calmly as if it had nothing to do with her, but if someone paid close enough attention, they'd be able to see the tear that had silently drifted down her face. She watched the grave silently, and soon enough, three days of her memories had passed.

An explosion broke the gravestone he'd crafted. It hadn't come from a nearby fight, though; rather it came from underneath.

As it turned out, the resentment the girl carried wouldn't let her die. She was effectively immortal until the combined lifespan of those whose memories she carried ended and their resentment cleared.

For fifteen years she looked for the boy, but she never found him. After she'd avenged herself, the girl had no real reason to live, so she began fulfilling the wishes of the souls she carried.

After she ran out of things to do, she went back to the place she felt most at home, spending her days working on mechanics in a lab.

But as time passed, she began to lose her mind.

Humans weren't meant to live forever.

She'd lived through countless civilizations, seeing the coronation of the new king and the kings who came after. In all the time she'd lived, the only thing that managed to stay standing from beginning to end was the Magic Tower. His creation. Countless technology was created, but humans couldn't stand through the end of the world, and millions of years later, the sun blew up. That was the day of her second death.

Ciel was greeted with darkness once again.

Throughout her years, many of her memories had been forgotten, discovered, and forgotten once more. But she'd never forgotten what she'd written in that letter.

When she'd first met the boy, they were guarded against one another. He, a soon-to-be duke, and she, the murderer of his father. At the same time, he was her savior and she was his.

They'd grown to be companions through their joy of puzzle-solving and had spent much of their lives together. Still, there was always that hidden wall between the two of them.

He couldn't get near people because he feared they'd be like his father, and she was the same. Both their mothers had disappeared and, even though they understood why, it still felt like abandonment. What bound them together was also the boundary that kept them apart, and throughout all those years together they were still simply close acquaintances.

She didn't know when she began to rely on him and he didn't know when he began to follow her lead. Maybe it was the day she'd asked him that question, simply because it implied a future. That neither of them wouldn't leave.

But in the end, she had.

At the same time, she'd realized that he'd broken down her walls, and she his, so she left him a puzzle.

Inside was something she'd always wanted to say to him but never could:

"Gael, you're my best friend."