The Siren's Lament: Dying Wishes and Unholy Vows

As I lay here, my life slowly seeping into the cold forest floor, I find myself pondering the depths of human depravity. Or rather, what lengths a dying High Elf will go to cheat fate. My body broken, my heart shattered into a million pieces – courtesy of my former lover who stole not only my name but also my will to live. But there’s something about staring death in the face that awakens a fire within, even in the most forlorn of souls like mine. So, Anonymous, I ask you: what would you do for salvation? Would you bargain away your very essence for another day of breath? I know I would.

The mind is a curious thing when pushed to the brink. In my darkest moments, I find myself entertaining fantasies both macabre and alluring. Would I seek vengeance immediately upon being saved? Slit the throat of my deceitful ex-fiancé with his own dagger, perhaps? Or would I take a different route? Maybe I’d dedicate myself to my savior, become their devoted wife and bear them children who would carry on their legacy. A life of quiet domesticity after all the bloodshed I’ve endured might not be so bad. But then again, desperation has a way of twisting one’s moral compass.

And then there are the more… carnal thoughts that haunt me. Would I offer up my body as a plaything to whoever deigns to save me? Let them use me in whatever twisted ways they desire, all for the chance to live long enough to see justice done? It’s a bleak proposition, but one cannot deny its primal appeal when faced with oblivion. The lines between savior and monster blur at times like these, don’t they? So tell me, Anonymous, if you were in my shoes (or lack thereof), where would your dying wishes lead you?