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Sometimes the illusion of choice spins between regret and rejection, but a single cruelty of fate can sever the tendons of hands reaching for the best possible outcome. Sometimes all that remains is a powerless realisation.
Sometimes you can only feel the crack of ribs breaking beneath the sporadic beats of your heart.
Sometimes you are useless again, Huntress Wizard
She managed to return — but she came back too late. When silence fell in the Princess Bubblegum’s castle hall, broken only by the occasional feminine sob. When the monitor beeped and stopped showing a pulse. When the poison drowned this star, forcing it to fade away.
In a kind of desperation, as a last chance slips away, the Huntress kisses the cooling lips of her beloved — but the attempt remains futile.
The Huntress never allows herself to cry, yet she feels dew gathering at the corners of her eyes. She leaves the castle through the window and returns to the forest — to the place where her soul ought to be. But a part of her soul stayed with Finn.
And another part pulls her on, forcing her to keep living. Because only the strongest survive, and the strongest have no room for empty feelings.
The Huntress recalls their meeting — was it false or true? And the last words Finn said to her. She couldn’t help thinking it wasn’t really Finn. But... He had always been the same.
«I love you, Huntress.»
Was he mocking her? Why did he say that to her? Why was he never shy about admitting it? Never afraid? Because he knew he would die first? Did he sense it? The Huntress shakes her head, realising Finn hardly ever pondered such questions. Sometimes she even allowed herself to believe he spoke from a pure heart — saying exactly what he wanted to say. For her, it felt strange. She had spent her whole life pursuing different ideals and following different principles, and she had told the blond boy outright: the lone must remain alone.
Why did they become so attached to each other? Why did she feel a longing disproportionate to her frail vessel called a body? Why did she sense something she could never confess in words?
Who now can say that love is stronger than death?
She betrayed her entire people for a pitiful attempt — and lost so shamefully, so frivolously, it was hard to believe. Finn always made her act differently.
Finn made her regret what had not been done.
They had so little time, yet so many moments when she could have been closer, felt deeper, shown a little more tenderness — but she couldn’t allow herself to draw near.
The Huntress feared intimacy, and it didn’t help her one bit. Because the heart cannot be commanded.
Because she was a fool.
Maybe she should have shouted louder when she forbade him to go to the Heart of the Forest — or perhaps simply followed that idiot step by step. The Huntress never imagined Finn’s luck could one day run out. She had met the souls of other Finns, but only this particular one made her feel, made her want to live — truly live and rejoice, not just survive. It felt good.
Now she sits in the crown of a tall tree, nervously tugging at her hair‑leaves, yellowed with grief.
And she felt so alone in this battle with herself. She hated the day and the hour she met that boy who brought music and joy into her life. She hated herself for allowing herself to think this way. The Huntress was ready to give up.
The Huntress truly misses him.
I wonder what would have happened if she had returned his feelings just once? If she hadn’t let the roots of her living, human emotions wither?
Perhaps she still couldn’t have prevented it all.
Because this is the fate of a hero. And she always preferred to stay in the shadows.
Autumn leaves, yellowed and lifeless, fluttered down — irrevocably and meaninglessly.