Xena and I had been fighting Ares, I knew. Shifting my position reminded me of the terrible burns Ares had inflicted on me.

Where was Xena?

I had no light, nothing to go on except my feelings. So I blundered blindly through the caves until I heard . . .

Or was it felt? I felt the titanic confrontation ahead of me. I thought I saw light, and as I came around the next bend, it grew stronger. There was light. Finally, I emerged into the chamber that would become known as the Tomb of Ares.

The light nearly blinded me. I could barely make out the dark form of the God of War surrounded by tendrils of light. He was screaming, resisting as they dragged him to his captivity.

And then I saw her. She was across the room, a bare wreckage of a woman. My own scream of anguish was drowned out by Ares� final defiance. I ran to her.

The whole cave began to shake. I realized a door was coming down, a door that would forever seal us in. Xena couldn�t even hold onto me as I dragged her through it. I was screaming at her to stay conscious. Then there was a huge concussion, and all was blackness again.

When I opened my eyes, I realized I was in the open air. Dust was choking me.

Where was Xena?

That thought dominated my mind as I forced my battered body upright. I called her name, nearly numb with panic. Stumbling over boulders, crying like a lost child, I searched for her.

Finally, I saw her. She was laying on her back, arms flung out as if in sleep, and her mouth was moving. She was alive! I knelt by her side, trying to see what the damage to her body was.

"Pax Romana," she whispered.

"Xena? Stay with me," I begged. "Please, stay with me."

So much blood. It was flowing from her nose, her ears, her mouth, and grotesquely, one rib that had forced its way through her leather battle dress. I knew her injuries were mortal, but I couldn�t let her go. Not yet. I pulled her into my arms, weeping.

"Gabrielle?" she whispered, her voice a bare husk of itself.

"I�m here, Xena," I tried to reassure her. "Just rest. Just rest."

"Gabrielle . . . my daughter . . . is your daughter," she breathed.

Lycea. Our sweet girl. "Of course she is, Xena. She always has been." I knew I sounded hysterical, but I couldn�t help it.

Xena�s eyes opened. "Crying? Don�t cry."

Xena, my soul . . .

I forced back my tears. They wouldn�t be the last thing she saw of me. I gathered the tattered shreds of my courage, the courage she�d brought out in me, and looked into her face to tell her the central truth of my life.

"Xena," I said, "you are the best thing in my life."

She smiled. "I love you, Gabrielle."

And she died.

~~~~~

I remember screaming, a scream to shake the gods who were no longer there and who had never cared. Then, for a time, I know not how long, all was silence. I sat there with Xena�s body in my arms and nothing in my head or heart. All was emptiness.

I don�t know where they came from or who they were, but by ones and twos, people arrived. They were all dressed in gray, in simple tunics and robes. They moved to the sound of a song of mourning. Xena�s body was lifted from my arms, and I, too, was lifted and carried away to a small, perfectly circular village. Salve was applied to my burns and a bandage was wrapped around my sore ribs. Then they left me to rest.

I did not sleep that night. I can�t say what I thought about, but it seems to me my mind skipped from one inconsequential thing to another, merrily unconcerned with the fact that my soul lay torn and bleeding, wounded beyond healing.

Come morning, I washed and dressed in the simple dress that the Oracle Cassandra had given me as a disguise and emerged from the hut my mysterious hosts had placed me in. Two young women fell in beside me as I walked into the center of the village. There, a casket laid open on a bier.

Her face was in repose, beautiful, but cold. None of the vibrancy and passion that had so characterized her was present anymore. And I, too, was empty.

Wordlessly, this strange, gray people closed and sealed the casket, then placed it in a wagon. Argo and Scathach were led to me, and I harnessed Argo to the wagon. Accompanied by their song of death, I left the village.

I still don�t know who those people were. Tales have been told of mysterious villages of seers that only appear during momentous times. Perhaps this was one of them. If I can ever find them again, I will thank them properly for their kindness. Had it not been for their intervention, I might well have died, maddened by grief, outside Thespin�s Cave.

I traveled for I know not how long, through Macedonia and into Thrace. I kept my disguise on, but it was no longer a disguise. Gabrielle, bard, Amazon Queen, and constant companion of Xena, was gone. In her place walked a shadow. This shadow ate little and slept less. It was the two horses that seemed determined to return to Amphipolis.

Finally, the day came when two horses and two dead women entered the streets of Xena�s home village. The sounds of a town at work and play rapidly gave way to silence as we made our way toward Cyrene�s inn and tavern. I slid off Scathach�s back and led the two horses.

Toris, Xena�s brother, saw us first. He didn�t even have to say anything, but a crushing weight seemed to settle on his shoulders. He turned ahead of me and went to bring his mother.

I can�t be sure of what my reaction was when I saw Cyrene. Her screams of grief washed over me, stripping away some of my distraction. I wanted to go to her, to join in her grieving, to take the comfort only two grieving women can take in each other. But I couldn�t. Toris, his face etched with pain, finally came and disentangled my hands from the reins and led me inside the tavern.

I stayed there for two days, I think. The time seemed to run together. Cyrene, though bowed almost double with a mother�s grief, tried to comfort me. But how can you comfort a dead woman? She gave me something to drink that made me sleep and forced me to eat a full meal. Toris asked me to stay with them for awhile.

How could I? To be in a place surrounded by the black hair and bright blue eyes of Xena�s family would have forced me into the knowledge that she was no more. Numbly, I told him I had to return to the Amazons.

When I went to the stables, another grief awaited me. Argo had died. She had served her mistress faithfully to the end�and had followed her into death.

I shed a few tears for her. I could cry for Argo. But not for Xena.

I remember when Ephiny died, I couldn�t cry for days. But that had been in part because I had a mission, something to complete. This was different. I had nothing inside, no tears, no emotions, nothing.

I left Amphipolis on Scathach�s back, still dressed as a lady-in-waiting. The emptiness within me was growing. My body was growing physically numb from it. I had no idea where I was going anymore, but something kept tugging at me. If it hadn�t been there, I think I would have laid down on the side of the road and waited for death.

There finally came something different. As I traveled my humble path, alone, I had seen no one of consequence. The odd merchant�s caravan or group of soldiers had passed almost without me seeing them. The brigands that jumped out of the bushes one particular day forced me to pay them attention.

Their attack ignited a white-hot something inside me, and my sais were in my hands with a thought. Some disappeared under Scathach�s hooves, others fell to my blows. And then there was one, staring at me in terror as I held a sai over him, ready to plunge it into his chest.

It registered that he was young, too young. One of the others was probably his older brother. This one was weeping openly.

I lowered my weapon. This boy would survive the day. Wordlessly, I mounted Scathach and left him behind. I was aware I�d taken a few injuries, but they were of no moment.

I came somehow to be standing in a town square eventually. I�d passed ghostlike through others, without noticing them or being noticed. This one seemed strangely familiar. I felt I should know one of the figures across the square.

He turned and looked at me, and I saw three thousand years in his eyes. Methos the Immortal stared back at me for a moment, then began walking toward me.

I think I said his name, and I think he said mine. All I really remember was that he said her name, and I felt physical pain. I came to be leaning against him, my cold body drawing warmth from his. I heard him say something to someone else, something about me being widowed.

Widowed. I am a widow, now more than when Perdicus died.

Methos guided me back to his house. There, he had food brought out to me.

"Not hungry," I told him. I didn�t want food.

"Eat, Gabrielle," he ordered. "A weak body won�t help your mind heal. Believe me, I know."

Heal? I didn�t want to heal. To heal would be to have the wound lanced. He just sat and faced me, stubborn as only an Immortal can be.

So I ate. And I bathed. As I was getting out of the tub, Methos entered the bathing room. I was beyond self-consciousness by then, but all he was interested in was seeing how badly I was hurt. Not all of my wounds had healed, but physical pain was inconsequential to me. Even so, I didn�t like it much when Methos opened a badly infected burn. He treated it and re-bandaged it, then lifted me in his arms and took me to my bed. There, he soothed me asleep with his hands and voice.

I dreamed that night, the first dreams I�d had since Thespin�s Cave. In all my dreams, Xena and I were on the beach where we�d been so happy, running and playing in the surf. And then a huge wave would come up and drag her out into the ocean, leaving me on the beach.

I couldn�t shake the dream the next morning. I ate without tasting the food Methos brought me, and I never heard a single word he said that day. What was it about the dream that so disturbed me?

I�m not sure how many days we passed like that. Every night, I would have the same dream, and every day, I would puzzle over it. I was completely alone within myself, although Methos never allowed me to be physically alone. Looking back, I know he worried I�d kill myself. He needn�t have worried; I was too busy turning that dream over and over in my head to entertain thoughts of suicide.

And then, one night, I fell asleep early. There was the dream again. Xena was standing in the shallows, looking over the sea. She turned and smiled at me, then looked again. Then she started walking out to sea.

"Goodbye," she said. She turned once more, looking expectantly out at the waves.

I knew!

She was expecting the wave. She knew it would come, and she went to meet it.

She knew!

She knew she was going to die. She had known it all along.

This time, when I awoke, I wasn�t looking for someone who wouldn�t be there. I awoke in the full knowledge that Xena knew her death was coming, and she never told me. She never told me, yet she was constantly saying goodbye to me, and I never saw it.

This time, I was beyond grief. I wanted to destroy the world in my anger, my anger at the gods, at Ares, at the Oracle who gave us directions, at Xena, but most of all at myself for never having seen, never having understood what she was saying and doing every minute of every day we spent on that last journey. I wanted to destroy the world, but all I ended up destroying was my bedroom.

At some point, Methos came in, and I flew at him in my rage. His Immortal body absorbed the blows I directed at it.

As suddenly as it had come upon me, my anger broke. I was left drowning in a sorrow more crushing than anything I�d ever known. I surrendered to it, allowing the waves of pain and grief to wash over me again and again. My only anchor was the pair of warm arms that held me and the voice that murmured soothing words in my ear.

Coming out of sleep the next morning, I felt like I�d drunk too much ale. My whole body ached and my head swam. But I felt washed clean. The emptiness had been replaced by terrible grief, but it was a clean grief. It was right that I should feel it.

I tried to apologize to Methos over the wrecked guest room, but he brushed my apology aside with his typically dark humor. He asked what had happened to us.

And I, a bard, was able only to tell him the barest, most stripped-down version of the past four years. That was all I could handle and still hold myself together. I felt very alone, as if no one had ever held such a weight of grief.

Methos� hand stroked my hair gently. I turned and saw the empathy in his golden eyes.

"You don�t have to be strong for me, Gabrielle," he told me gently.

And I didn�t. Methos had suffered three thousand years of loss. He knew what grief was better than anyone, even me. He offered me comfort, and I accepted it gladly, falling again into his arms to weep. They weren�t the arms I wanted, they weren�t Xena�s arms, but they were comfort nonetheless. And I needed comfort.

He rocked my shuddering body in his arms, absorbing my tears as easily as he had my fury.

"How fragile is the heart, Gabrielle," he murmured.

~~~~~

After that, I started to come back. Food had taste again, the sun was warm, the garden was cool, and the flowers had scents. Methos and I would talk about inconsequential things. I asked him about his travels, and though I don�t recall his answers, really, I desperately needed his presence. I needed him nearby whenever the sorrow would double me over again, as it would. When it did, he would catch me and support me until it passed again. And it would.

I wept every night, sometimes with tears, other times simply keening into the night. Either Methos or a maidservant would be nearby in case I needed them, but they allowed me my privacy. Still, I would sleep. Every night brought new dreams of Xena, of our times together, of the love we shared.

Xena, my sister, my friend, my beloved! You were everything to me.

And one night, as I lay there, I decided I wouldn�t go back to the Amazons and rule them. The world, I told myself, had taken enough from me. I wasn�t giving it any more. Forget the greater good. Screw the greater good. I had given up my very soul for it, and I would give no more. I had no more to give.

I decided to stay where I was. Methos would let me. Methos loved me, and I thought that given time, I could love him a little, too. My heart was far too wounded to truly love again, but perhaps he would take what I had to give. I�d stay.

Thus decided, I sank into sleep.

~~~~~

My dream that night took me far into the past, to the first time I�d invaded Xena�s campsite. She looked amused as I came stumbling through the bushes.

"Guess some things never change," she remarked.

"Xena?" I whispered, not believing.

Her eyes were warm. "I�m here, Gabrielle. Not for long, but I�m here."

My emotions were such a mixture I couldn�t even speak for a moment. Anger won out, as it will. "Why didn�t you tell me, Xena? You knew you were going to die, and you never told me. Why?"

"Because I knew you�d try to sacrifice yourself if you knew." Her voice was kind. "Gabrielle, I knew I was going to die from the start. Athena implied I would. Cassandra foresaw it. I knew there was nothing I could do, and I didn�t want you to die with me. Maybe I was wrong to keep it from you, but I saw no other way. I didn�t want you to die, too, Gabrielle. You�ve still got far too much ahead of you."

My head dropped. I knew I was crying again, and I hated myself for it. "Xena, I can�t do it any longer," I whispered. "I can�t do this without you."

"You can, Gabrielle. You were always the stronger of us." She reached over and touched my face, making me look at her. "You�ve got to let me go, Gabrielle."

"How can I?" Tears choked my voice.

"You�ve got to," she insisted. "You can�t remain between death and life, and neither can I. I directed you to Methos because I knew he�d help you, but you�ve got to take the first step out of the night."

I felt the blackness of the night of my soul encroaching again. "It�s endless, Xena," I told her. "The dawn seems forever lost."

She stood, drawing me with her. "But Gabrielle, the stars shine on even the darkest nights. Look up."

I did so. She stood behind me, feeling so warm and real.

"Do you remember when we�d lie out in the open, and you�d point out shapes in the stars?" she asked.

"Yes," I said. In spite of everything, I smiled. Such ordinary, everyday, wonderful memories.

She spoke again. "I�m going to tell you something I never did in life. Sometimes, when we were apart, I�d get so lonely for you I couldn�t bear it. So whenever I could see the stars, I�d try and find shapes in them. I�d know that you would be doing the same, and it made me feel like you weren�t so far away."

I was weeping openly again. To know that I meant so much to her that she�d play a child�s game just to feel closer to me . . . it was almost more than I could bear, yet I wanted the moment to last forever. Her hands gently took my shoulders and turned me around.

"Just look at the stars, Gabrielle, and remember me. I�ll always be with you."

She leaned forward, as if to kiss me. When her mouth touched mine, though, it wasn�t in a kiss. She was breathing into me, breathing life back into my heart.

Darkness began to fade to light, and I awakened in my bed in Methos� house. Dawn�s pale light was creeping in my windows. Drawing a blanket around my shoulders, I arose and looked outside.

The sun hadn�t yet burst above the horizon, and a few bright stars still decorated the deep blue sky. I looked at them. It seemed I could connect them into a perfect circle. A chakram.

I�ll remember you, Xena. And there is someone else who will remember you, too.

I didn�t go back to bed. Instead, I went back down to Methos� grand hall. Inside, I found what he had called his favorite treasure: a stone block with the Endless Knot of the Celts etched deep into its surface. I remembered the story of the stone. Nearly two thousand years ago, his beloved wife in Albion had given the stone to him, telling him that as long as he remembered her, she would remain a part of him.

It took me awhile to realize Methos was watching me. He was standing in the doorway, his eyes inscrutable. I asked him about how his memories work.

"I don�t really know, to be honest," he told me. "But I think they must somehow be stored within my Quickening. When one Immortal receives another�s Quickening, memories are a part of it. Nothing distinct, though�just images and feelings."

I examined his face and considered this carefully for a few minutes. "Then Methos, I want a part of us to stay with you forever. I want you to know who we were so that what we were will not be forgotten."

And then I told him the story of the Warrior and the Bard. The details of our story didn�t matter�what I wanted him to know was us, who we were, what we made the world in our wake. I spoke for the whole day with him listening. He made me eat, but that was the only interruption. Sometimes we laughed, sometimes I cried, but I never stopped telling the story. The next day was much the same.

I couldn�t finish it, though. I couldn�t tell him the story of our last mission. It was still too raw a wound. As I drew to a close, I realized I was going to cry again. I remember Methos pulling me close. I must have fallen asleep crying because when next I awoke it was morning, and I was in bed.

Seeing the pale gray dawn flooding my room, I knew I couldn�t stay there another day. It was tempting, and it would�ve been so easy, but I had to move on. My physical wounds were healed. I�d gained back some of the weight I�d lost. And my soul? It was still wounded, but had healed enough that I could move on without endangering my life. There was no reason for me to stay.

I got out of bed, washed, and then started getting back into the dress I�d been wearing ever since Thespin�s Cave. Something stopped me.

I put the dress back into my travel bag and pulled out my Amazon leathers. They weren�t in the best shape�a little scorched on one side and stained with blood and dirt�but I wiped them down as best I could and put them back on. My sais went back into their holders on my boots.

It was time for me to come back.

After dressing, I made my way to Methos� room as quietly as I could. He was still asleep. I stood next to his bed for a moment, just looking at him. He was so beautiful. Perfect and ancient as a stone statue. I wished I could have drawn him in that moment.

I sat on the edge of his bed, waiting for him to wake up. It didn�t take long before those hawk-like golden eyes opened and found me.

"It�s time for me to go," I told him.

He sat up in bed, fixing me with that penetrating gaze of his, and smiled a little sadly. "Yes, it is."

We ate breakfast then, talking only a little. Methos� housekeeper, Lavinia, insisted on stuffing Scathach�s saddlebags with food until they bulged. I took her reins, and Methos accompanied me as we left his house.

"I told Rebecca to keep an eye out for you," Methos said as we walked through town. "You should stop by her farm on your way."

"I will," I replied. There wasn�t really much more to say, but the silence we shared was companionable. When we got to the city gates, I turned to face him.

"Thank you, Methos," I said. "More than I can say."

Strange, how expressive that almost severe face of his can be. One of his hands came up to touch my face, and the other joined it quickly, as if he was afraid he�d lose the courage.

"Gabrielle, what I�ve done, I�ve done out of love. You of all people understand that." His voice held a note of yearning, but also joy. I wondered then how what we�d shared had affected him.

"Remember me," I charged him. "Remember us, and live."

Live three thousand more years, Methos. Don�t ever let us be forgotten.

"I will," was his pledge.

I remembered that once, he�d thanked me for stopping his descent into the bloody nightmare of his own past. I thanked him for healing my soul the same way: I kissed him. It was a kiss between two people who understand the deepest grief that can affect the human soul, yet have come away from it whole.

He released me, stepping back a little. I mounted Scathach and turned her toward the Amazon lands, and I knew it would be the last time I saw him.

Remember us, Methos. Forever, if you have to.

~~~~~

After a few days, I found Rebecca�s farm again. Lilith was there. She almost immediately threw her arms around me and started crying.

"Methos told me about Xena in the letter he sent," said Rebecca from behind her. "I told Lilith. I thought it might be easier for you if you didn�t have to tell her."

I hugged the young Immortal who was soaking my shoulder. "I�m sad, too, Lilith," I managed.

Can I understate things, or what?

Rebecca insisted I stay with her for at least a night. She, her husband, their children, and Lilith all did their best to make sure I was comfortable. Inspiration struck when the youngest crawled into my lap.

"Would you like to hear a story?" I asked her. The little girl, all dark curls and big brown eyes, nodded shyly. "Let me tell you about two women who met and became the best of friends . . ."

I told the family around me the story of how Xena and I first met. It was a pretty mercenary thing to do, catching two Immortals in my net like that, but I couldn�t pass up the opportunity. Rebecca and Lilith both listened closely. Rebecca, I suspect, knew exactly what I was doing.

I slept soundly that night. I�m not sure if I dreamed at all. In the morning, I walked out to the Israelite altar that made Rebecca�s farm holy ground. I remembered how a lost tribe of the Israelites had once befriended Xena, and how she�d always respected them and their beliefs. On impulse, I knelt.

"Please," I prayed, hoping the God of the Israelites was listening, "please, if You ever cared about Xena . . ." I trailed off, tears choking me again. "If You ever loved her at all, please let her be at peace."

A gentle hand touched my shoulder. I looked up, and there was Rebecca. She was wearing a white robe, her flame-colored hair spread all over her shoulders, and she was extraordinarily beautiful in the morning light. I worried that I might have offended her by praying to her God, a God I�ve never worshipped, at least to my knowledge.

But her eyes were kind and warm. "Selah," she said softly. So be it.

~~~~~

When I left the farm later that day, I had two unexpected companions: Lilith and Rebecca. Lilith had insisted on accompanying me back to Amazon lands so she could be at Xena�s funeral, and Rebecca said Lilith wasn�t ready to be on her own as an Immortal yet. They made good traveling companions.

Amazon lands had shifted since the last time Xena and I had been by Rebecca�s farm. Then, it had only taken a good day�s travel to reach the Amazons. Now, it took five days. On the fourth day, we saw three figures on the road ahead of us. As they came nearer, Rebecca drew her sword.

"Immortal," she said quietly.

It was then that I realized who they were: Hercules, Iolaus, and Autolycus. I hadn�t thought I had any more tears inside me, but the sight of Hercules proved me wrong. I found myself running toward him, blinded by tears. The demigod caught me in a tight embrace.

"Oh, no, Gabrielle," I heard him whisper in a broken voice. His grief was just beginning.

~~~~~

The six of us reached the Amazons the following day. The village fell absolutely silent as we entered, flanked by my honor guard. I walked straight to my dais, where the other Amazon leaders awaited me, then turned and held my arms up at my sides, palms out.

"My Amazon sisters and honored guests," I declaimed, "I sing the song of the last battle of Xena, Warrior Princess."

And I told them everything that had happened since Xena and I had left the village. Not once did I falter in my narration. I wasn�t even a bard at that moment; I was an Oracle, channeling the voice of the story through my body. When I finished, I nearly collapsed from exhaustion.

Chilapa came to my side. "My Queen, you must rest," she told me gently.

I shook my head. "There are things that must be done. Bring me our swiftest messengers."

In the next few days, others began trickling into the Amazon village: Salmoneous, now rich beyond his dreams; Joxer and his wife, Seliphone, bearing their newborn twin girls; Xenan, the Centaur prince who had owed his life to Xena before it had even begun; Yakut, shamaness of the Northern Steppes Amazons, who had begun her journey the day and hour that Xena had died.

Many others arrived, too, people who had all known the Warrior Princess, many who owed her their lives. Finally, as the new moon rose, a funeral pyre was constructed in the center of the village. It was to burn in memory of Xena. While it would not hold her body, however, it would not be completely empty.

Accompanied by the Amazon dirge, I descended from my dais to the pyre. There, I gathered my long hair into one hand, drew my dagger, and cut it off. I then laid it atop the pyre.

A part of me had died with Xena, and a part of me would burn on her funeral pyre.

I stood off to the side of the pyre, flanked by Hercules on one side and Joxer on the other, with Lycea on my hip. She was not yet four years old and didn�t understand what death was, but felt keenly the loss of her mother. I had explained to her that her mommy loved her very much and would always look out for her, but she couldn�t be here anymore. I told my little girl that whenever she missed her mommy, she should look up at the stars.

"Mommy�s in the stars?" she asked me again.

I sniffled back more tears. "Yes, sweetheart. She�ll always watch over us."

Lycea seemed to think about that, then wrapped her arms around my neck. "Don�t go away, Gabbyelle."

I hugged her close. "No, honey, I�ll never go away. Your mommy made me promise to take care of you, and I will. I promise you, I�ll never go away."

As the Amazon dirge ended, a new song began. I felt like I�d been struck by lightning: it was Xena�s dirge, the dirge she�d sung for fallen friends and heroes. For a wild moment, I thought that it was her ghostly voice come from beyond the grave. But the voice was smoother and lighter than Xena�s.

I finally found the source of the song: Rebecca. It made sense. Xena had learned the song from her Israelite friends, and Rebecca was an Israelite. Somehow, I was comforted. The song Xena had honored others with now honored her. More tears flowed from my eyes, but they were tears of healing, not pain.

Joxer turned to me, one of his daughters in his arms. "Gabrielle," he said softly, "Seliphone and I talked it over, and we decided�we want to name the girls Xena and Gabrielle. If that�s okay with you, of course."

I used one hand to wipe away my tears, then moved toward Hercules. "Go to your Uncle Herc," I told Lycea. The demigod gently plucked her from my arms. I turned back to Joxer and took the baby he held, then received the other from their mother, Seliphone. Then I walked back up to my dais. As Rebecca�s song ended, all eyes were drawn to me.

"Amazon sisters," I announced, "in the wake of death comes life. I present to you now twins born soon after Xena�s death. These, the daughters of Joxer and Seliphone, are sisters of this tribe forever. I present to you Xena and Gabrielle. Do you receive them as sisters?"

"Aye!" my Amazons shouted.

"Then it will be so." My ceremonial duties finished, I stepped off the dais. I kissed both girls and handed them back to their parents. Hercules stepped over with Lycea.

I reached out and took her, watching the light of the funeral flames reflected on the faces of Joxer and Seliphone�s newborns. Life and death, all in one moment.

And for the first time since Xena�s death, I felt life within myself, too.

~~~~~

Now I sit on the beach Xena and I so enjoyed together. Lycea�s playing in some tidal pools. She wouldn�t let me come here alone. There�s much of her mother in her.

This is my last scroll. I became a bard because Xena inspired me to be one. The purpose of my bard�s skills was to record our life together, and that part of my life is now ended. My new purpose is to raise our daughter and be Queen to the Amazons, and to carry on the fight for the greater good.

All I am, I owe to Xena. As long as I live, a part of her will live on, too.

These are the acts of Xena, Warrior Princess, as testified to by Gabrielle, Bard of Poteideia. May her song never die.

~~~~~