He wouldn't admit it aloud, but flying around with Bodil was one of the best feelings. He loved the feeling of air all around him and the slight push as the staff moved the air to his liking.
They were coming home from a tower raid, carrying an arrangement of materials and treasures.
The Bulgarian was a bit ahead, looking around for their houses. Double smiled, thrusting the staff backwards to catch up.
A small, almost inaudible crack sounded alongside the wind's whistle. Double craned his neck, looking back to see the crystal on top of his staff broken into pieces that were falling to their doom.
His eyes widened as he realised what just happened. He cried out for Bodil, more than aware that he didn't have a spare staff.
The wind, no longer under his command, stopped propelling him, leaving him to plunder downwards, falling head first onto the ground below.
The Bulgarian turned around, manouvering the staff to stop him from going any further. He caught a glimpse of Double falling down, and that was enough for him to surge forward.
He used the staff to its best abilities, hurrying to reach the ground before Double would.
But then, as he stood on soft, tall grass, he knew it was all in naught.
On the ground, Double laid, dead.