“What is the point?” Tears glistened in Filia’s eyes as she asked the air. “What’s the point?!”
She hadn’t even bothered to get out of bed this morning, much less get dressed. Filia lay there, hugging her pillow, not motivated to do anything.
A sob escaped her, muffled as she pressed her face into the blue pillow. The days had grown longer and longer, no matter how few hours there really were. Filia had tried to fill the new emptiness with taking care of her pottery shop, but since Val, Grabos, and Jiras had left, there was nothing.
Now here she as, the last Golden Dragon. Alone. After Val had been raised and was gone...What was left? She had no one. Lina, Gourry, Amelia, Zelgadiss...They were gone. Dead, having lived out their lives. Another quiet sob was muffled by the surface of the now soaked pillow. Sometimes she thought about finding their descendants but...
“It wouldn’t be the same...” Filia whispered.
The only one who was still alive was Xelloss. It pained her to think about him, now, so long afterward. When Filia had finally sorted out her confused feelings, it was too late.
“Doesn’t matter anyway. Mazoku can’t love. Damn namagomi Mazoku.” Her lips twisted into a bitter smile. There was nothing to live for anymore, her mission of raising Val was accomplished. All of her friend’s were dead, her family, she loved the murderer of her race. She was empty. Alone.
Filia removed the pillow from her face and stared at the wall, her tears drying. Clarity returned, in some fashion, to her mind. Filia uncurled, sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of her bed. Standing, she walked with slow deliberate steps, exiting her room and heading for the kitchen.
They were there, she saw them sitting on the kitchen counter, their gleaming blades sheathed in the wooden holder. There was nothing for her now, nothing. And in those gleaming blades, there lay the end to her long, empty life. Filia drew one out, admiring the craftsmanship, smiling bitterly. Steeling herself and closing her eyes, Filia placed the tip against her chest, over her heart, turning the blade so it would fit between her ribs.
