Each step pinched the breath from her lungs. Each step bringing her closer to finite death gods could not comprehend. Though she had served faithfully, fought bravely, the halls of Valhalla would not welcome her, nor would the shifting mists of Hel receive her.

She was to be erased. A smear of her Mistress's name, destined to become less than the last whisper of a dying man, as easily forgotten as the last autumn leaf. Forgotten by all, but one lonely boy.

She would miss him.