With a dignity born of valor he wades into the dark waters, marches stolidly into the ravenous waters that swirl and froth and tear at his body. Their waves lap ever higher until, silently, he disappears beneath the surface, into their clouded depths.
And, though he were a denizen of Hell, one could but think,
'True love deserves better.'
Quickly Demo turned to the maiden. In those few moment her breathing once more has ceased. Loosing her bodice he turns her over, lets the dank water seep from her lips.
Almost he gives up hope. And then she once more stirs, moans.
She moves, half sat, wide-eyed. Gently he holds her hand.
She looks wildly around.
"Where is he? Is he gone?"
He told her of Pluto's last words, of how Pluto died - evil, misshapen, cast out from the heavens. Of how he knowingly cast himself into the deadly waters of the Tarn of Eternity for her sake.
Hated by all. Destroyed, though, not by any of these, not by the power of his enemies. Destroyed by the one small touch of goodness left in him, the ability to love.
Bemused she looked at the now placid surface of the tarn.