Pain crawled through every inch of his body; he felt his torso burn like a wildfire of his insides. And then, there was nothing.
An elf was buried under a thin blanket of snow. His body was hunched over in a tight ball, and his arms were strained as they held together the pieces of flesh that had ripped from his torso. A crimson liquid oozed out of the newly formed entrance in the elf’s body. It hurt.
His mind attempted to piece together the events that led him to that dire moment, but with each passing thought that shot through his mind, the pain grew deeper and more intense. The world was nothing but an illusion of vertigo as he desperately clawed onto what little life he had kicking. But he was suffering.
He slowly gave up and instead decided to patiently wait for the sweet embrace of death to claim her reward.
“You should sleep now…” She whispered into his ear in a smooth and comforting tone. “It’s okay, it’ll be over soon…” The elf could feel his breath become heavier, but he was not scared. Death watched over him with her peaceful gaze.
“You have to let go…” Her voice was gentle, and the elf could feel his eyes droop. “But, why aren’t you letting go?” She asked. The elf was unsure what was stopping him from reaching Death’s hand. He was more than ready to go with her, but something itched at the back of his self-conscious. He knew, deep down, that his time was not up. He was not ready to follow Death, he was not ready to give up everything he had fought for.
“It’s not your time, my dear…” Death vanished, and with her, the comfort and warmth. He was alone, cold and afraid.