Descent

       She sank like a stone.
       The lake was called Despair.  It was almost poetic, Ahiru thought, that she was drowning in a lake born of her own emotions.
       Certainly, that very same despair pervaded each disjointed memory that drifted through her mind – screaming Rue’s name as she gave herself to the Raven; tearing desperately at the pendant that refused to unclasp from around her neck; a vague awareness of Fakir’s words guiding her every action.
       Ahiru dragged her eyes open against the water around her.  The world was blue, grey, black, shadowy.  Her pendant drifted in and out of view, gleaming ruddily in the murky light – the final fragment of the prince’s shattered heart.
       Seemingly of their own accord, Ahiru’s eyes slid shut.  When I’m gone, the heart shard will surely return to Mytho, and then . . . and then everything will be all right again . . .
       Like a stone, she continued to sink.  Surely death was there beside her, guiding her descent through the fathoms.  It closed like a hand reaching for her, touched her with icy fingertips, then settled upon her with a lightness that was almost soothing.
       All sensation seemed to be fleeing from her, and she fancied that Drosselmeyer was watching her, applauding his heroine’s impending demise.  In spite of everything, Princess Tutu would still disappear – not in the illustrious blaze of light that her creator had intended, but her end would certainly be no less tragic.
       After everything . . . you still got what you wanted . . .
       She didn’t even notice as her leaden body finally came to rest on the lakebed, one final thought forming in her mind before it went to sleep:
       I hope you’re happy, Herr Drosselmeyer.