As the blade slipped into his chest, his mind went white. Clouding up as the blood slipped onto the clean edge of the blade, ever so slowly.
Close enough to the heart to slay him.
But not close enough to kill him quickly.
This was how all traitors were dealt with.
An execution blow.
As he slowly bled to death, his mind slowed, as he caught glimpses of a figure he longed to see.

"Its alright now... you no longer have to fret. Nor worry, nor cry, nor shout.

You fought well... and now its time for you to rest. You earned your Hero's ending.

Now winter has come, its time to sleep."

He made no sound as the blood poured from him.
His life so quickly slipping away.

His killers rejoiced.
His friends mourned.
And he found himself at peace in his soul.
Even as his body began screaming bloody murder.
Taking everything with it.