The sound of her steps echoed throughout the hall, though it was not made of marble nor the cold stone of the earth. It was wood, though less warm than the mahogany color would indicate. The lamps were lit, the soft glow of fire dancing over the wick casting shadows and illusions round about even after she had passed. Painted faces gazed down, somber expressions knowing and empty while she strove to ignore them just the same.
She was alone and yet with almost a hundred eyes upon her each day she wondered how that could truly be. The paintings of those long since passed her only companions inside the bleak future that they had once fought so long and hard for.
“It will be worth it, if only to let them have a moment to breathe!”
“We do not fight for ourselves, but for the children!”
“I hold no hope for myself, but must gift it to others for my time draws near its end.”
Shades and memories of words and actions, deeds and beliefs followed in her wake as surely as her own shadow, warped though the candlelight may make it.
It was a silent world, though the wind blew and the rain fell and the snow gently drifted down. Animals scurried here and there and the sounds of birds and insects were ever present.
It was silent because there were no beings of higher sentience upon the once desolated and overpopulated planet.
She had desired peace for all and in the end there was peace for all but one.
Death is the final passing.
Have no idea where that came from. This was supposed to end differently than it did, but once it was done I couldn’t rewrite it.
This was inspired by the Dungeon Prompt: Desire. Sreejit, I am sorry this one was so depressing.