Aeron glanced at Gwyllion...her face was pale....lined with the fair lines of death. She was beautiful, as Marigold had said. Beautiful with Death's beauty...
Marigold leaned over the body, and tucked the flower into her hair. He would find her with a wreath of flowers in her hair, nestled in a grassy dell... the dream echoed in his mind as he stared at the golden flower.
Aeron gasped a little and plucked the flower from her hair. "Yes, but like this Marigold," he said dully, twirling the stem between his fingers, "she is still dead. And there is nothing that you can do about that. No matter how beautiful she is, I would rather her alive. I would trade this beauty if only she would become alive again."
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