::cracks knuckles:: Here goes nothing.

"But she said... She said she couldn't die! How can this be real!?"
"I don't know. I just don't know," he said, eyes squeezed shut. In his arms laid a young, battle-worn woman. Her chest was still, her body only moving with the movements of the man holding her. She was dead, as dead as any of the other men being carried home from the battlefield.
"But...but Alan...Alan, she said!"
"I know she said she couldn't die!" Tears fell down his cheeks as he pulled the woman closer to his chest. The young woman looked away, raising an arm to cover her own eyes as she cried. After a few minutes, Alan regained his composure, saying quietly, "Come on, Darla. Let's put her to rest... It was...one of her greatest wishes, after all."
Darla's lip quivered, but she nodded and moved towards the rows of coffins those remaining in the village had toiled to make. Alan followed, though slower. His heart ached more and more with each step towards the coffins he had helped make. Never would he have thought or even had the mind to ponder that his dearest love, the savior of that city, of that country, perhaps the world at some time or another, would be one of the ones laid to rest in those cursed boxes.
It wasn't long before the whole city was gathered for the mass funeral to be held for all those who had fallen in the battle. Everyone had known her, and everyone cried for her. None of them understood it. They had seen it with their own eyes. She couldn't die. She could be run through time and again, but she would still live. So why; why was it that now she had fallen? Who's sword could pierce her heart when no one else's could? She couldn't die, and yet, they all saw plainly the lid of the coffin nailed in place and then watched as she was lowered into her grave. They all watched intently as the dirt began to be piled on top. Many of them half-expected her to come busting out of the coffin and chide them all for not listening to her before. But, another shovelful of dirt, another second, and not a sound came from that coffin. Soon enough, the grave was covered, as were the others, and it was over.
"It's over," Alan muttered, trembling as he stared down at the headstone. He sank to his knees as the grief overwhelmed him. His wife... It hadn't even been a year since they were married, and already this... They hadn't even yet had children. She was completely gone.

It was midnight, the turning over of a new day, and Rhia's eyes slowly drifted open. Darkness? She blinked a couple of times so her eyes could take on their infrared capabilities again after so long of not needing them. She frowned when she saw wood so close to her nose.
"Where am I...?"
It didn't take long before her eyes grew wide and she at once began to look around her.
"A coffin?!"
She felt something foreign on her chest and lifted one of her hands to lift it up. Again a look of surprise grew on her face as she took in the sight of the pendant she had given Alan.
"He...he did this?! He's betrayed me! I'll kill him! I'll kill you, Alan!"
She gripped the pendant tightly in her hand as she thrashed about. Just how on earth was she going to get out of this? Quite suddenly, she stopped and fell silent. What was that? She tilted her head and rested her ear against the side of the coffin. A voice. From the surface, perhaps? Was the ground carrying sound of the surface to her? Her brow furrowed again as she recognized the voice, but the words were not ones she had expected.
"Rhia...how could this have happened...? How could...how could you have died...? You told me you couldn't...you promised...you said you'd always come back to me, no matter what. Why...why did you die?"
"Die? Me? I was dead...?"
She pulled her head back, slowly looking around again. Well, time to put revenge behind her, then. She needed to get out. As she took in another breath, she found herself coughing.
"What?! My air!"
She lifted a hand to her throat as she tried to gasp for another breath. She was using it all up. Her struggling was a big mistake.
"Alan!"
Her voice choked off as her gasp brought in almost no oxygen.
"Alan..."
A tear drifted down her cheek as she slammed a fist against the lid of the coffin. But it was weak. She was already feeling lightheaded from lack of oxygen.
"Alan..."
"Stop your blubbering, will you?"
Rhia's eyes widened at the familiar voice, her tears instantly dry. Arcane? she thought to herself. Or, well, not really to herself.
"That's right. I'm pleased you could at least remember my name, if nothing else."
As she tried to take another failed breath, she began to panic all over again. You have to help me! Please, Arcane, I'm begging you!
"Oh, cut it out. If you would relax and think a moment, you would realize I am helping you."
She did her best to relax, but only choked on another empty breath. I don't understand!
"Why do you breathe, Rhia?"
Wh-what?
"Why do you breathe? You do not need to eat, to sleep, worry over your wounds... Have you forgotten already that I am taking care of you? Why do you breathe, Rhia? You breathe only to speak, not to live."
Her eyes grew wide. He was right. For decades not so long ago, she hadn't taken in one breath. How could she have so easily forgotten? At once she relaxed, and the illusion of suffocation faded. She was fine.
Arcane...thank-you.
"Yeah, whatever. Now let's get you out of this stinking coffin, shall we?"
H-how?
"That's right...we haven't done this in a very long time, have we? Teleport, of course."
We can- Oh...I remember that now. But what am I supposed to visualize? I don't know what anything up there looks like...
"Your lover is up there, isn't he?"
Yes, he is. Okay, I can do this. She smiled gently to herself as she closed her eyes. She could visualize him. The long dark hair that hung in his eyes, sunbaked face, his warm and loving smile. How he carried himself with pride and dignity. She could always visualize him.
"Stupid woman. You want to end up in the middle of all that dirt? He doesn't look like that now, wench."
She frowned, not quite sure what he meant. That was when she heard it all over again. His anguished cries, his pleading with her grave stone. He was hurting. He wasn't happy, or carefree as she was remembering him. Suddenly the image in her mind began to distort. The twisted and pained emotions she had seen in the faces of her past lovers, or of those she had hurt or wronged; she was seeing them on his face. Tear-stained cheeks, hunched shoulders, his mouth gaping as he cried to God for mercy. Her eyes squeezed shut tighter as she visualized the pain she could hear him going through, and would have sobbed had she had air in her lungs to do so. Her hand grasped her chest ever her heart as she saw him clearly now, the pain she had brought him, his agony. Oh, Alan...
"Good, good. That's much better. I can definitely work with that."
She could almost hear Arcane's sly grin as he took pleasure in her pain. Before she really realized it, the air around her was suddenly freezing, but fresh. She gasped in a breath and slowly opened her eyes. She was met with the face of her lover, staring down at her in disbelief as he cradled her in his arms, which was where she had been teleported to. She took in a few more painful breaths, her lungs no longer used to being inflated, before reaching one of her hands up to his face.
"I...told you...I can't die..."
His jaw trembled, but her words and touch seemed to convince him he wasn't delusional or dreaming. He let out a sob and pulled her in close. "Rhia...my Rhia...you're alive..."
She weakly lifted her arms up around him, burying her face in his neck. "That's right. I'm just fine..."
Thank-you, Arcane...
"Oh, save it. Stupid woman."