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    Summary

    When looking back, there are pin-prick moments of perfection, sprawled in a history forever leading to this moment. Fiyero is sure of it: His last thought before he feels his ribs cave, puncturing through a lung in a deep gasp for air. Maybe he missed those moments when he had them, but that’s no matter. He’s losing blood, consciousness, too quickly; there is nothing to do but look back and grapple for the floundering desire to remember something to ease his pain. But his body’s gone limp and he’s left on a wooden cross to fight an incessant itch forming in his chest, then fingertips, his joints weakening. Fiyero can only lift his head high enough to see green and tufts of gold splitting the blue horizon. 

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    4,072
    Chapters:
    1/1
    Comments:
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    Kudos:
    82
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