Sometimes we have to create the end. Push everything aside and let it be overgrown. Or fixed, if others come to repair the damage. I don’t believe I have yet done my damage. In this realm that is. Rather, I have taken the damage it has delivered my tired body. And in return, I have seen mortal love unite people. That, to me, is unknown. Risking your own mortal life for others, shows a bond that is overwhelmingly powerful.

She pushed past the doctors that were grabbing her gently. Too scared to harm her, but also scared they couldn’t help a non-human without hurting themselves. Because of that they didn’t run after her, only cut-off their protesting. Her silhouette against the morning sky was too serene to disturb. She knew what she was doing, they didn’t.

The outside world was unknown to her now. The quiet peace outside usually calmed her. But today she didn’t see it at all. Her senses were blinded by the pain. She stopped at a desk, without looking at it or taking time to acknowledge it. Instead she pulled out the chair and sat down.
The nurses stopped what they were doing and stared in a shocked wonder at her. The doctors had followed Ecco when they heard the gasps, and motioned for everyone to leave. All eyes were on her as she pushed everything off of the glass tabletop, glasses shattering and papers fluttering. Her good hand lifted the limp one onto the desk. The hollow thud resonated throughout the room. There was a long pause, then the remaining assistants gently closed the door to leave her alone.

Ecco leaned in, sitting on the edge of the seat as she slide her good hand next to the bad. Her head tilted to the left, silently thinking. The deadness outside echoed what she felt inside.
“Theres only one way.” She soundlessly whispered.
Her chin rose as she straightened her back, looking calmly downward. She lifted the good hand and turned her palm skyward.
As she did a spherical tear opened above it. Her fingers felt around it, inciting soft musical cries. Light and shadow trickled out of the ghostly realm, replacing the tear. Her fist closed, pushing the elements together into one neutral.
Eyes moved to the limp hand, moving up until she stopped at the grossly disfigured shoulder. It burned too much. Wincing in pain once again, she struggled to keep focus. Reminding her of the task, her palm opened. A short sword burst from the small element, having a dull finish and simple design. The blade was solid but tapered to a sharp, thin edge.

Her fingers dug into it, gripping the handle with all the energy she had. She raised her arm, holding the sword high. Without pause, she held her head high, going down with dignity.