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Winning Isn't Everything

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In.

Out.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

It’s okay.

They had been fighting.
They’d been tracking a supernatural creature that was able to summon the dead.
This creature brought them hell.
All were resurrected, even those killed unnaturally.

The familiar black cloaked and silver steel masked men.
The large skeletal creatures with sharp pincers.
A green eyed purpled jaguar.
A twisted and burned face with a source of power from a decrepit tree.

They had fought long and hard.
They had persevered and they had been resilient.
They were strong and they were adamant.
They never gave up.
They were a force to be reckoned with.

They thought they had won.

They were wrong.

They were scared and they were terrified.
They were doubtful and they were questioning.
They were uncertain and they were planning.

They were ready.

But they weren’t.

The final battle.
The toughest then, and the toughest now.

The light hit an object, illuminating it in the darkness for a moment.
A raven black object.
It glistened in the light, before it disappeared into the darkness once more.
A clean sound rang clear throughout the air.
It was suddenly silent.
A gasp could be heard.

They thought they had won.

They were wrong.

In the middle of the forest, one of their own had been injured.
An Oni in front of them.
Its blade half gone.
The rest of it had gone through someone just like years ago.
Their brown-haired witch, mirrored their brown-haired hunter.

With a cry of his name, the blue-eyed werewolf rushed over to catch the witch as he began his collapse to the ground.
The Oni disappeared like they did the last time.

They thought they had won.

They were wrong.

What was done was done, and it could not be undone.

"Hey, no, look at me. Baby, look at me.”

He cradled him in his arms, holding onto his love so tight.
He couldn’t bear to lose him.
Not after everything they’d been through together.
He was his purpose.
He was his life.
He was his soul.
He was his everything.

"No, no, no, you’re okay. You’re going to be okay, okay? Stay with me.”

Whiskey colored eyes stared up into a set of beautifully mixed green and grey.
He was strong. He’d be okay.
He’d move on.
He would heal.

But he wouldn’t.

Whiskey eyes focused elsewhere.
Others clung to each other.
Strawberry blonde hair blew in the wind.
She collapsed beside the pair.

He stared up into the sky.
The stars were so beautiful.
He’d never noticed it before.

His eyes focused back on the two figures above him.
Whiskey found the combined sea green and storm grey once more.
The brown-haired witch had decided.

He was at home.

With him.

That was his home.

He was his home.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

He was ready.

Bright whiskey colored eyes stared up into the black mass, spectacled with lanterns of light.
Bright whiskey colored eyes dulled.

A cry rang throughout the forest.
It was a cry of pain.
It was a cry of heartbreak.
It was a cry of love.
It was a cry of loss.

"I love you.”
was whispered.

And then there was only silence.

They had won.

But they had lost.