>The Spectre seems completely without reason, gesturing wildly and aiming her ghostly arms at him wherever he gets close
>but at one moment of searching for unknown targets, he strikes
>Anon embraces the ruined husk of the one he loves, a thing that Should Never Be, as her protest quickly fade
>An apology. For the version of him that couldn't be what she needed
>tattered wings block light around him the phantom calms, and with a ragged breath, she is gone
>only old feathers remain
I'm no writer, but I had to get this thought out.