Time seems to slow as I feel myself slip off the cliff. I’m hopeless. Gravity pulls me to my death. I don’t scream, letting the invisible force pull me down. Pain fills my chest, although I’m not sure why. It isn’t a wound, but it hurts just as much. A pain, filled with loss and confusion. Like a darkened tunnel, with no light on the other end. There isn’t anything I can do other than fall. Panic has given way to an overpowering sense of helplessness. I look back up to see General Sanderson watching me. He locks my gaze for a moment before my body hits the water and I’m engulfed. The shock of the impact knocks all the air from my lungs.

My head bobs back up to the surface and I take down a choked breath before I’m forced under once again. My body goes limp for a moment as I’m pulled to the bottom of the rushing river. I am jerked from one side to the other. I have the decency to cover my head with my tied hands. It smashes into a rock and I nearly cry out in pain. The currents spin me in never-ending circles until I no longer have the slightest sense of direction. My lungs throb in protest. The current pulls me to the bottom. There isn’t anything I can do.

Water is everywhere. It holds me in its choking grip, pulling me deeper until it feels like I’ve been under for hours. I try to pry its giant fingers from around my chest, but I can’t fight the current. For a frightful second, I can’t remember why I have to get to the surface. Pain creeps into my limbs, still flying furiously. My body hits the sand floor. Seaweed brushes against my face. This is anything but a romantic moment. The remaining air in my lungs seems to compress itself until I feel hollow. Burns slither their way across my lungs. I try to scream, but I’ve lost my voice. Water crawls between my lips, sliding down my throat faster than I can push it back. My movements are slow as I choke up water. My lungs revolt against me. I can almost hear them crying out for mercy, but I know it’s hopeless. I can’t do anything but drown. Water fills my system. Pain stretches to every corner of my body. Anguish is the only thing my brain can concentrate on. I try to whisper for help, but only swallow more water. My movements are slow to a stop as I lay on the riverbed, choking up water. And then I know it: I’m going to die. But what does it matter? I’ve lost everything I love. I have lived for what I have loved, dying for what I care. Water fills my lungs and I know it’s the end.

And then I drown.

Darsal is dead.