He was the first to fall.
He fell so they didn't have to, a sacrifice nobody wanted but had to happen.
The last thing he heard as he hit the ground was the tortured screams of his precious, precious students, and the whispers that reminded him of duty and honor, loyalty and bitter tears, sacrifice and the long ago worn memory he wished he didn't have, of a birthday he wished had never come.
The ones who loved him, the ones who were left behind with sweet sweet lingering memories of their teacher, their parent, their captain and guardian and comrade and friend.
The masked man, the man who had two eyes but only one of them belonged, and only one of them cried, for itself and the one who wasn't able to.
Next was the raven boy, whose face spoke hate but his heart only whispered confusion.
He had been alone most of his life, but had never been able to stop longing for the short shared moments of long ago.
He had walked in solitude, but had always looked back towards the light, even when he could no longer go back.
He was a victim and a prince, a teammate and brother, the object of hate and the object of affections.
He had been in the light once but could not stay in it, chained to a past that he couldn't forgive, had not wanted to forget, and for that, he forsook his life and destroyed his future.
The betrayer had fallen long ago, but he struck the ground trying to keep a flower from withering.
The raven's brother, the fox, broke as his family disappeared.
He lost himself in rage to protect himself from his shattered reality and the burning truth.
The pariah fought for the right to love and be loved, something he had from the beginning, hidden and out of sight.
He fought and lost the fight to protect his sister, his brother, and his lover, the blind woman who had seen so much.
He was dragged down, fighting to get back up, as was his way.
He only had time to turn his head and say "sorry" to the last before he was taken.
The savior's son could not save anyone.
The last was the one left behind.
Some thought that she was the one who had it the best, that she was to be the only one to escape the curse that had plagued those around her for so long.
They were wrong.
She lay, broken and bleeding and breathing on the burnt, cracked earth beneath her.
It was her fate to watch them fall, her teachers, her friends, her family.
And then had come the boys.
That had been the worst, lying there as the boy she loved and the boy she loved in a different way, the one who left and the one who stayed, had done all they could while she had done nothing.
While, just as always, she could do nothing.
She cried then, tears of regret and hopelessness, as she thought that she was supposed to be strong, that she was supposed to stand by them, to not be left behind.
She cried, but forced herself to watch, to not blink, for if she blinked she would miss a moment, and they didn't have any left to spare.
And then their moments ran out and she gave a single soul shattering shriek before she fell into a silent rage, unable to vocalize the measure of her despair.
She lay there for a time that couldn't be measured before she caught up to the rest, waiting for her so she wouldn't be left behind.
Tears and much much more slid off her slowly cooling body, joining with the others on the blood and bonds that kept them together.
They were together on their last battleground, a place where all their sweat and tears, laughter and smiles and moments, all their memories, would be hidden from the rest of the world, a shared secret, together, just as they were fated to be.