What happened? She must have closed her eyes without realizing it. There had been a moment, she was sure of it, when she was flying. Held. Kissing. Falling. Hunger and terror and desperate passion pulled her down into the depths of a pair of lips that had haunted her dreams since she was a teenager, and then... what happened? She had meant to take in the whole scene herself. She was supposed to drink in every fraction of every second and burn it into her memory so that however long she had left to live, this at least would stay with her. 

But there had still been work to do. The great beast who had once been the Master of Assassins was still roaring in her ears the entire time. An invincible opponent. An immortal opponent. But all she could remember is the sensation of falling, and now... it's as if the hydra never existed. The storm that marked the excellence of her preparation and her prayers, gone but for an arc of soft light in a prism of colors as if to mourn its passing. The battlefield that proved her dominance and terror is gone as well. Something happened. She can't remember closing her eyes. But one instant turned into the next and the entire world had transformed with it.

All that's left is... a garden. Not the kind that Sagakhan was so proud of, the wilting land of death and terror that she tended so obsessively for so long. This was a proper garden, like... no. Not like Redana's little paradise in the Tellurian palace at all. For the first time in her life, Bella's memories fall short of the reality around her. The colors here are more vibrant and beautiful than anything the Imperial miracles could conjure back home. The petals flutter more softly and more perfectly, turning the swirls of the gentle zephyr into a physical thing she can watch with her eyes, a dance of pinks and whites and yellows. The smell is sweet. So bewitching and wonderful that it makes her mouth water, and not even the passing bounty of Demeter on the [i]Yakanov[/i] can rise to match it. 

If... if there could only be a butterfly or two, this would be paradise. She might ask for music, too, piped softly into the air to help her Princess focus on her reading. She'd sing herself, but she. She can't. Remember any songs just now. The desire flutters out of her as nothing more than nonsense humming, and the magic of the gods is that to her softly twitching ears it sounds melodious and sweet. Somehow she's captured every lullaby and masterpiece she's ever known inside this ridiculous crooning. 

Bella falls silent a moment later. It hurts. Singing hurts. Breathing hurts. But, the [i]way[/i] it hurts is unlike anything she's ever known. This must be what Beautiful felt like when she was jabbed through with that needle carrying the Lethe. The hot stab and the burning feeling of something sticky and pervasive, like sap, and then... peace. The inevitability of it all is soothing, somehow. She sighs. She doesn't want her body to shut down like this. She doesn't want her body to stop feeling anything. Not when the sensations were finally the thing she had been dreaming about for her entire life.

She drags her arm up as high as it will go. Her fingers clumsily paw at Redana's face. Even in this perfect garden, she can't help but smear that perfect face with blood. Typical. But she can't bring herself to care. The feeling of her skin is soft and warm. If she wrapped her hand in Her Imperial Majesty's finest silks it wouldn't compare half so well to the wonder of this stupid girl's skin. Finally, she finds her grip. She squeezes, harder than she means to, to hold on. Her touch is so light it might not be noticeable at all. Bella laughs: a shaky, breathy, weak noise. Her grin is lopsided and exhausted.

"I... finally... caught you. Princess. Now you... can't..."

Ha. What a joke. All the weight of Bella's body slumps forward unsupported by any meager power she might have left inside her. Only Redana keeps her from dropping into the garden and sinking beneath the flowers like the rest of the dead and dying. Already, she can't even feel the sensation of being held. Being supported. All that's left is that calm inevitability. But that's ok. That's... ok. It's enough to see it with her eyes. It's enough to know it happened. Even if only once, before the end.

This is what she deserves. So many of the bodies here were names on her list. Murder was forbidden. No higher law existed in the Empire. Her secret purpose was no excuse, not now after she'd discarded her own flesh and denied her own transformation into Artemis. She had brought only death and misery with her on this journey, and the list of names stretched so far beyond the ones they'd asked of her. Lanterns, Kaeri, Magos and Coherents both. King Jas'o and the frenzied queen of Ceron. That pirate woman. She can't even remember the name.

Ivory Smile. Mynx. Oh, Mynx. If you were... if you could... no. It's too late. Her eyes are already falling shut, no matter how hard she wills them open again. Her head feels so heavy. The last memory of Sagakhan, her mother, swims through Bella's veins. Dragging her down, and down, and down again, until surely even Redana won't be able to hold her up anymore. After so much wishing for it, now it is finally time to die. Or perhaps some miracle will come to save her? She would shrug, if only she could. It doesn't matter. If she takes one more breath or one million, it doesn't matter. She will be a corpse or she will be a prisoner, and she'll deserve it either way. So much pain. So much misery.

And for what? In the end, she hadn't managed a single damn thing. That was the thing that really made her want to laugh, if she could just manage it right now. After all her effort and frantic scrambling, after every plan and scheme and choice, after each close call and bloody toll... she'd only wound up in the same place she would've anyway.

If she'd just.

Gone along.

In the first place.