She would sooner be turned into a forgotten tale than someone that once lived, and Morrígan couldn't do a damn thing about it because the breath of life was slowly leaving her body. And once Morrígan was gone, she would take everything with her. There would not be one word of her good deeds. Not even a single whisper of her name.

She gave them everything, and in return, she had been left to live out the rest of her days on the edge of a cliff with its restless sea waves. Rising and crashing. Rising and crashing. Not once did the water touch her.

Morrígan hoped it would, but she could no longer wait for it—nor him.

She sat outside her slanted home, rocking to and fro on her wooden chair with the occasional help of the sea's breeze. Today was a quiet day. Most of her days were quiet. But today was different. The air smelled oddly familiar like an old burning home. Her nose wrinkled at the scent of it. She looked up at the gathering clouds, ashen and gloomy.

It will rain very soon.

As the smoke drew closer she thought how long it had been since she last saw her dear old friends.

Her eyes sagged toward her frail and bony hands. Perhaps, too long. She remembered when time couldn't touch her and let it pass through her. Now, she couldn't even remember what she looked like before she became mortal.

Her mind had aged too.

Marching steps came into her porch, then halted a few meters from her. She didn't need to look at who had come to her home. She knew they would be coming for her. Nobody else would come for her like they would. After all, she used to be one of them. She kept her gaze on the far vast blue and green sea. "Your Majesty, was it necessary for you to bring Ivy and Hans?" she addressed them.

She then heard Ivy make a scoffing noise.

It sounded like Ivy's wounds remained as fresh as the first cut. Over the years, Morrígan had enough time to sit in regretabout what she did, but her greatest sorrow had always been Ivy. She wished their friendship hadn't suffered. She wished Ivy had chosen her side.

But the world spun, and Morrígan's words and actions couldn't be erased from their minds. She didn't put any effort into doing so. So, she bore their wrath and pain. It was the least she could do for them.

"Mor," the king announced his presence, demanding her eyes. "I'm surprised to see you sitting."

Was she impatient before? She turned to look at him.

The king—her once true king hadn't aged at all.

His immortality kept his smooth marbled skin and inked hair without a wrinkle or a thread of gray. He was dressed in his finest silk black robes. In the center was embroidered a skeletal dragon in silver and at his waist was a belt of obsidian with tassels and pendants of skulls. Despite the weather, the skeletal dragon gleamed. She recalled being there with him when he was given those clothes in the further eastern part of the world. He was happy there, but he was neededeverywhere else. Such a precious gift he wore.

She focused on him, her eyes searching for any signs of impairment or affliction. She found nothing until her eyes landed on his hands. They were gloved in black. "Yes, as am I to see you standing," she murmured.

This time Hans made a disgruntled noise and took a hasty step forward not before the king raised his gloved hand. Hans stopped in his tracks. She tilted her head back slightly as she got a more perfect view of them. Both demons were dressedin their black regal uniforms with sewed silver chains and skulls. They flashed their blood eyes at her. She missed those eyes—her real eyes. She didn't like they had been traded for her hair color. She put aside her jealousy as she stared at the king's sworn protectors. She made them into his sworn protectors.

The king spoke again, calmly. "You sound concerned for my health. Or might I be confusing it for unhappiness?" She turned her gaze back to him.

His dark pitless eyes were unsettling. So empty. So hopeless. The last time she saw them they still held some emotion andshe couldn't forget them. She could never forget that day.

"Forgive my manners," she uttered. "I haven't spoken to anyone in years."

The king carefully raised a dark brow. "Even with your daughter?" Morrígan seized her rocking.

Her heart twisted as she gripped her armchair. "Don't speak of my daughter." she trembled in half agony and half fury.

A faint smile played on his lips. "Is your daughter aware of what day it is today?" He taunts her. "But of course, she knows. She possesses such a peculiar gift." It was no gift. It was a wretched curse that damned her daughter for eternity. Her entire bloodline was damned. And Morrígan was the one to be blamed for it. It should've been her burden to carry, but the gods were cruel and even crueler when you took something they loved.

She repeated. "Don't speak of my—"

"You're alone, Morrígan." he cut her off, and it struck a chord inside of her.

He disregarded pleasantries as his fury broke. "You're alone and no one is here with a goodbye or a farewell. The faeries have abandoned you as quickly as you offered your help to them. Breaking bonds of friendships for their acceptance! The male fae you loved has married another, and she is with child. Even your daughter is gone. And look at where you are!" He roughly turned her wooden chair towards him, and she met his raging gaze. "Sequestered into this shithouse. After everything you did for them, only to be alone on your death day." he quietened his voice.

Morrígan sat there silently. She didn't dared to speak. Nor to breathe. The sea's currents came and rose, but her heart slowed.

"You're wrong." she finally managed to say. "I'm not alone. You're here. Ivy is here. Hans is here." The king briefly looked a little stunned.

Ivy then spoke. "We are not here for you. We have come for you." She didn't care for the difference.

Ignoring the demoness' comment, she shamelessly asked. "Before you take me, you must promise me one thing." The king released his hands from her wooden chair and took a couple of steps back. The glitter amusement of cruelty flickered in his dark eyes. "A promise? You don't have the right to speak on the word nor to ask for it." He began to turn away butshe needed him to make this promise to her or else she would not rest.

"I will not leave with you all," said Morrígan

The demons stared at her with widened eyes in anger, except for the king who bore exhausted patience. She raised her voice a little. "I will not leave you with all until you promise me you'll not interfere in my daughter's life or the next. Do not go near any of them. Do not speak to them. Do not look for her. She'll call for you but do not go to her. My bloodline must live on and fulfill their part." she swallowed. "Promise me or else I'll make your demons run for centuries."

Hans and Ivy's faces reddened as they looked toward their king awaiting his permission to kill her. Morrígan locked her gaze with him too, but he only looked at her blankly. He knew it wasn't her daughter's fault or the rest. It had been hers. It was all her.

He finally said. "I don't give a damn about your offspring or any of your future descendants." He also despised it too. Thiswas his sickness as well. "They will all live until the day I come for their soul." She took that as his promise.

The king then stood in front of her and grabbed her wrist, a chill went through her body.

"Morrígan of Hell, I pronounce you dead. Your soul is caught. You've lived a mortal life, but demon blood courses through veins and can only enter Hell. Do you understand?" he said, firmly.

She slowly rose from the wooden chair and let Death lead her out of her home. Hans and Ivy followed closely behind like guardians. Or at least that's what she made herself believe. The waves bellowed and brutally crushed against the cliff as they drew further away from it. Perhaps, she couldn't ignore it after all.

She turned, the king tightened his hold on her wrist and his demons positioned themselves in defense. "Take care of our daughter!" she shouted to no one in particular. "Let no harm come to her. If I meant anything to you at all, please, take care of our beautiful girl. Hold my sweet baby—leanbh iníne." she cried.

The king slightly loosened his hold. Hans' gaze met the ground, and Ivy shut her eyes.

A moment passes and the waves return to their tranquility. Perhaps, no one was there.

She closed her eyes then opened them as a single tear ran down her cheek. Her gaze then turned where her shitty home stood, and saw an elderly woman with streaks of gray in her red hair sitting in a wooden chair. She looked as if she had been lulled to sleep by the sea.

"I hope you never fall in love, Your Majesty," said Morrígan.

He replied. "I never intend to." In her ears, he sounded so naive and childish.

She turned to face him and told him. "You'll find love is as inescapable as death. It comes for everyone, and one day it will come for you. I wonder what you will do then? Take the same actions as your brother? Or suffer the consequences like me?" She waited for his response.

He said nothing for a moment, then replied smiling. "I'll kill them. If I love anyone, I'll kill them."

She pitied him.

Morrígan followed Death into Hell once more. The Rogue Demon had returned, but to her fellow demons, The Devil had arrived.