She sat up, her white gown falling around her. She saw Henry. She saw Pretorius. Then she turned her head with a slow, mechanical click.

"It is the spark of life," Pretorius whispered, his voice like dry leaves. "And nothing more."

Then, silence.

And the Bride, in her final moment of conscious thought, watched the "-www.scenetime.com-" screen flicker and die. A window to a world of stories, closing forever. Because some stories, like the one in that lightning-blasted tower, were never meant to have a happy ending. Only a perfect, tragic, scene time .

"Go," the Bride hissed, her first and only word. "Go… away."