The church cellar was unlit and damp.  Amber's mouth hung open as she looked through half opened eyes at the ceiling.

    Drip.

    A radio was set up on the other side of the room.  Voices emitted from it telling about the outside world, about how the world had moved on, how World War II had come to an end, and how, through omission of her name and the very word "witch," she and her kind had been forgotten.

    How long had it been now...How many years?  Fifty?  One hundred?

    A faint tapping descended the steps.  It was him.  His name escaped her, but so did many things.

    "The war ended," the man said, his voice hoarse with age.  He slid a cane across the wet floor, squinting through the dark room, until his can finally hit against Amber's bare foot.  Carefully, he crouched down.  His fingers grazed the brick floor as he attempted to sit without slipping.  Water seeped through the thin fabric of his pants.  Left hand shaking, he searched for the gas lamp he always stored beside the woman.  Hard, cold metal found his hand.

    The voices from the radio distorted.  A low hum came over the radio.

    He lit the lamp.  The flame lit their faces as it began to burn.  He stared into the girl's nearly translucent eyes.  It had been years since he had seen any life in them.  He placed his right hand on her chest.

    Thump... ... ...Thump...

    "Ambrosine," he said quietly.  The girl's hair had withered long ago, but he could still remember when it was a vibrant blonde over a hundred years ago.  "The Immortal..."  The fire that swept over Salem that day still shone bright in his mind.  He had cowered in a cabin nearby as he watched his parents die.  "Do you know why you're here?"

    Amber didn't move.  She could hear the words, but their meaning was lost.  The radio seemed to speak over him, white noise scratching the walls of the room and beginning to make a sound she did understand.

    The man reached into his pocket.  He pulled out a small vial containing a black ointment.  "Our war should end as well," he said softly.  "This will break your curse of immortality, and thus break our link."  He rubbed the ointment on her forehead and pulled a blade from his other pocket.

    "Samuel...Wardell,"  One name was broadcasted over the radio's static.  "Sam...Wa...ell."

    Amber's eyes shot open, bright and full.  Her mouth was dry, her tongue like sandpaper from years of silence.

    "Samuel... ....ell."

    The blade already pierced her heart, bringing both their lives to a close.  The man gasped, clutching his heart, but stared intently at the usually catatonic girl.

    Her teeth gritted together in her last moments.  Samuel Wardell.  He had promised her immortality, yet here she was, feeble and dying, as he continued to live.