I am so old- so old and alone, abandoned by those that once loved me and left here by the center of the earth with little but an inclination to die. Alisier is for all intents and purposes dead; I may have fled the scene of the invasion with him by my side, but he has always been rather adept at finding his way away from me.

And since his parting, in a brilliant display of color and emotion, I have been alone save for my ever faithful Arbutus. Though his tears saved me from the invasion's injury over time, he is left now powerless over my pain. To some extent I am not surprised that this has come to pass; the capability to kill myself has always been prevalent. It is within everyone, I simply have chosen for it to take me over. It is easier, I think, to let the world pass you by and allow an impulse to control your life.

And what life has this been? Love, yes- I shan't forget it. But never was I offered the love of my children, and in time it seemed their mother's has faded just as well. And my own parents, what of them? Voltaic, dead, and Iris? One could only hope she'd met the same end.

I tremble at the heart's lip. My weak hocks, the pain I was born with, have only barely managed to bring me to this place. Soon I will fall- from weakness and strife, to my end. It would be so easy- as easy as letting my tail fall and sweep lines behind me in the ashen trail, as easy as closing my eyes as if to sleep. But he cries- will Arbutus ever stop crying?

Arbutus alerts me to the presence of others, and reflexively, defensively, my wings unfurl. I meet first the bright, orange eyes of the tiger. They seem hardened and captivating, but not powerful enough to sway. Maybe once, but not anymore. Then the undead, certainly a sight to see, stands beside him yet barely above him. Strange that I feel no fear of the creature. Pity overtakes my emotions, and the motherly instinct I never before felt fo my children begins to rise.

He is so young.

The thought enters my mind and hangs there, powerful, refusing to leave. Arbutus flies in a large circle about me, keeping them at bay with his flame. He is so loyal, but why? I can hear the hiss of his tears as they hit the ground, but still he keeps protecting me from the outside world- the outside world which has always hurt me. The stranger stands still, as if transfixed, saying nothing, and my mind wanders.

He is so weak.

My assumption is perhaps no more than that, but I see no strength in this child. His wings, little more than bones with flesh and red-black feathers clinging to the framework. Can he fly? No, of course not. How could one fly with such tattered wings?

He must want to fly.

"It's okay, Arbutus. I want to see them," I say firmly. I have made a sudden and reckless decision, as if my imminent death is not the mot foolish choice of all to make. As Arbutus comes to rest on my shoulders, I cringe under the weight of him. Light as it is, I am too weak for such a burden. He follows silent instructions, and with a pained look, pulls the shimmering feather from my mane with his beak. I am not old, but my body is aging fast. The lock of mane that once held it close to me falls with it, perhaps not willing to part from the feather. The fire across my back fades, and with it, the last memories of my father.

Everything fades, swiftly yet surely. I begin to lose all the pain as the reality of what is to come settles upon me. As Arbutus leaves my side to weave the lock of my mane and the feather into the strange colt's mane- to impart my final gift- even the pain that I am sure to cause the young phoenix leaves me. The colt and his companion say nothing, as if they understand what is to come. The colt merely accepts the gift and turns away; in silence, the pair leaves us to be. I turn away and face the fires before and below me.

It is all very sudden and yet very expected. It seems to make sense- to fall into place with the rest of my life as I have lived it. Perhaps Arbutus cannot bear to see me die; I hear him in the near distance, his task complete, his final cry shrill as it sets aflame and joins the air. I can feel the rush of heat as his body collapses to the earth and consumes itself, but I do not look. I do not turn to see the trail of tears ending in ash- the remains of a beautiful bird whose heart will never again beat.

Everything is lost, yet I am at peace. Into the fire, I fall.