The Fallen

"All of the leaves on all of the trees/are falling with me down to the ground/and I'm falling/I'm falling/I'm falling for you."
                   - The Fall Song, Bridget Mendler
                                                                                                                                                                                            
He couldn't feel the arrow that pierced her in the one spot she always failed to protect:     
her heart.
He couldn't hear her choke for air with a body that could hardly move.
He couldn't swallow the last bite of dread that clung to her as she fumbled for the arrow.
He couldn't catch the scent of a hearth as the gold of her armor gilded first her skin, then her emerald eyes, then the blood of her hair, in a smoldering evanescence.
And he couldn't watch her ride the wind, a newfangled soul of cinders falling to the beyond.

All anyone would say, could say, was that she was gone. 
He wouldn't believe...no, he couldn't. Because she couldn't be. Not her. Not the unbeatable warrior. He would graciously accept MIA. Even that meant she was still fighting. Somewhere. 

But then came the person who had seen, who had watched with unequivocal eyes, that which would destroy any hope he still nurtured. 

She was gone. 
Just gone. 
But no one would tell him what she really was. 

R.eturn
I.mperforate
P.yrrha

~E