Not all who wander are lost.

Constantine is a compass, he points and leads himself and others in every which way. He guides forth Cadette through the dangers of the arena. But he is a flawed compass, skewed by a magnet or simply bent. He has failed to do what he was created for.

He holds Cadette's hand in his own. His fingers drift over to the base of her hand and he places two fingers there. He prays to anyone that he'll feel pressure or a tap back, but there's no response. Cadette Lance is gone. The mind of this broken man can't comprehend it. Guttural screams escape his lips as the one person he cared for leaves this world.

Her eyes are still open, left in an empty, melancholy filled gaze. The eyes are dulled with cataracts and age. Before her death, the sky had placed wisps of clouds there, and in return, she forever lost her head there. With a thin layer of water, they glaze over. Constantine sees his empty reflection in them, a sadly destroyed man who cared too much for someone. A boy who wanted to die. A person who just wanted to live.

He doesn't deserve to live. His thoughts tell him plans that he disagrees with, there were so many ways to end it right then and there. In his pocket the matches call for him, they twitch and itch to be stricken and to set the world ablaze. The endless expanse of water beckons for him, trying to coax the distraught person into the deep abyss that is the ocean. Temptation lingers, but he looks back at the one who had saved him the first time.

Her pink lips show the ruins of a smile. A smile so sad yet so happy at the same time. The thin corners turn in on themselves showing the paradox of a happy victor. Throughout her demise and eventual descent into a tortuous existence, she still saw light somewhere. She briefly saw the potential of her child, she saw the potential to love her husband, she saw the potential for another victor to not die and to not end up like her. She saw ways to save people, and that filled her with joy.

Cadette's plan was flawed in one way. The embracement and tenderness of her were addictive, a drug worse than no other. Love was something all people crave, and when she gave it out everyone kept coming back. Her daughter tried to connect to her, her husband stole from her. Constantine begged for her to let him go, but he craved for the reasons to let him stay. All the people she loved the most, she really had hurt them.

Not all who are broken can be put back together.

Constantine forgives her, though she didn't do anything wrong. He was the one who had taken advantage of someone who just wanted to do good. It was his fault that he destroyed himself, he couldn't move the blame to the sweet person who had saved his life. It was his fault and his fault only.

He hasn't accepted the fact that she's gone yet. He always thought he would die first, whether by suicide or other reasons. Now, the tables have turned and she lays there deceased. He lays his ear on her chest, hoping for any motion. He wants to feel the rise of the lung and the beat of the heart. It's silent.

He lifts his head up, the second stage of grief begins to set in, but he was never an angry person. His eyes narrow at the sky, cursing the game makers. The sea mist reaches up and barely kisses his face. He feels the cooling of the water, but his eyes are set up in the sky. Constantine wishes for the sky to fall, for a star to reach down allow him to pass by. He wishes for something to change his life.

As he lays on the porous rock the salt begins to sting his cuts. He would take any amount of pain to see Cadette for one last time, to tell her how he felt. He never got to say thank you; never able to say thank you for saving me, thank you for standing by me, thank you for loving me when no one else would. All of the things he wanted to say he can't.

A goodbye never crossed his mind. Farewells were never Constantine's forte anyway. Saying the word would've been too much to bear. It didn't feel right in the situation. The two of them will meet again whether it be in the next life or elsewhere. The two were tied to each other and were destined to one day begin where they left off. They would greet their old friend with such warmth by the kindling of their memories.

They would go through their memories, they would remember. The worst pain, after all, is remembrance. Every fault they've faced they would go through together, and they would bring about change in themselves. Constantine would lead her down the narrow darkness that was existence while Cadette would light up the hall helping those who follow. The two of them would bring forth great epoch, and they would do it together.

But that was another time another life another love. The second half lay barren and empty with the sudden departure of their tether. Constantine held the matches in his hands, striking them and watching the fire burn with curiosity. As the sparks demised he pressed the burning ash into his skin. Searing pain filled his senses, but it didn't matter.

Nothing mattered at that moment, if he chose to die at that moment the world would continue to revolve, time would continue counting, and history would continue being made. He made his decision at that moment. He reached into his bag and pulled out a sharp blade. Once again he sees his ever-changing reflection. His eyes were deep and sucked. Purple spurted deep within his optical crevices. Red clawed from the corner of his eyes and reached towards the center iris.

He clutches the base of the blade for a moment, the faded flower tucked behind his eye caught his eye. Constantine hesitated for a second, then put the knife down. He took the wilting piece of nature and placed it in the palm of Cadette. It was a passing gift, and she had already gifted him so much. After that small bit of happiness, he turns to the weapon.

With force and intention and reopens the cuts from however long ago. Time had blurred together like that of watercolor paint. The deep red blood drips down his arm, then falls like a raindrop into the sea. It's a small drop, it's a small difference. The slices in his skin are just enough, he knows he can't turn back now.

Not all who are dead are forgotten.

He pulls himself up next to Cadette. Constantine is ready, his eyelids flutter downward as he accepts what is happening. Death finally seemed to have caught up with him. With the first encounter being those fateful ten years ago in the arena, his end seems like an old friend.

With the final bits of his strength, his bloodied fingers slowly entwined with his mentor, his ally, his savior, his friend. The flower petals are stained and then closed between the two palms. In his all knowing gray eyes tears leak out. He thought he was ready, and maybe he was, but it all seems so overwhelming at that moment.

In his final moment, he sees no fear. He'd experienced the unimaginable. He lived and loved like that of a dead man. He knows the light will come, and darkness will follow after it. He's truly happy now, for the first time in his life, it's genuine happiness. The fourth horseman comes and reaches out his hand, Constantine accepts it. But like a film being burnt up, memories reach forth and stain his vision leaving him in the void.

He's gone.