"Chaos." Nix's voice cracked when she spoke and I forced myself to move, to go to her while the sounds of the carnival outside dimmed in the background, Night not done yet, it seemed. I crouched over the ancient woman who wheezed, gasping for air, her body collapsing backward on the bench, the spark of the Ogdoad gone from her, death imminent. Pity returned and, to her credit, Chaos joined in with a grudging feeling of remorse the part of her that Night carried killed her when it left.
I held Nix's hand, doing my best to prepare myself for the end of this massive power's consciousness, wondering if, like other personas, it might find another or, instead, carry on alone? The sad thought of that long and lonely existence tightened my throat. I'd done a lot of crying lately, and this wasn't the least of the causes of my tears.
"Nix," I whispered. "I'm here and I won't leave you." I squeezed her hand, felt her quiver, heard her choke her last breath. Waited for the end.