It's 4:40am. I'm dying. This story is killing me...

The sounds of the dragon circling the tower mingled with the sounds of the storm. Warrick noticed neither, still kneeling in the pool of dark blood on the roof being diluted more and more by the second by the rain.

"We must leave!" Garrimar put a hand on his shoulder and ran to the trapdoor. Warrick was still thinking, his mind racing.

Summoning a Succubus required a Soul Shard… one that he needed for creating a Soul Stone. Again, though, who could he give it to? Bala was gone.

You don't need her

Warrick shook his head violently, sending droplets of rain flying across the rooftop that were lost amongst their brothers on the ground.

Yes I do. He clenched his fists against the ground and gritted his teeth, feeling like he was tearing apart from the inside. I will always need her.

With a cry he pulled the Soul Shards from his robe, sending them flying into the night off the top of the tower. They glowed for a moment and then dimmed as they fell further away from him.

No! After all I've done for you! You can't do this to me! The voice in his head screamed. Warrick's head was flooded with pain, like it had been caught between a smithy and his anvil. He dropped to his knees and gasped, clasping his hands to the side of his head.

You have done more than enough already!

The voice screamed again and Warrick felt like his head would split open. He threw his head back and screamed, feeling the purple haze buzzing in his mind being forced from his body. It pulled on him desperately; scrabbling for a hold on his bones, his heart, his own soul. Bit by bit it was ripped from him – just like the souls he had ripped so violently from others.

"Warrick!" Garrimar saw his protégé crumple from across the rooftop, distracting him from the dragon. It grinned and lashed out with its tail viciously. The spires on his tail buried themselves into the side of the old Warlock with a dry 'thud' and he was flung against the wall, pinned. Nafarian snorted thunderously and drew closer to the tiny Undead's face.

"Perhaps," He growled, his breath blew Garrimar's dirty hair back from his face, "You will face death with more honor than how you faced me, thief!"

Garrimar gurgled and flapped his arms weakly, feeling the force that reanimated him escaping rapidly from his grasp.

Warrick heard the massive dragon's voice and looked up. Seeing Garrimar in the Lord of Blackrock's grasp, he summoned a Shadow Bolt and sent it toward him, striking him on his right leg. It buckled and crumpled from the force, removing his attention from the Undead and transferring it to the Human.

"Oh you will pay for that, insect." He snarled and took flight. The wind from his wings, sent Warrick tumbling towards the edge of the tower. He flung an arm out, catching the edge of a stone 'barrier' and clung on for his life.

Garrimar was not so lucky however, his light corpse tumbled end for end, hitting Warrick so hard he almost lost his grip on the tower.

"Hold on friend." Warrick tested his strength on one arm and attempted to wrap his other arm around him. Garrimar shook his head as he began to slip backwards towards the dark edge.

"Forgive me," He looked at Warrick with haunted Undead eyes, "I have brought death upon us all." Without warning, he pushed Warrick away and rolled over the edge of the tower.

"Garrimar!" Warrick watched his frail form fall through the night; the look on the corpse's face was peaceful.

The wind that had claimed his teacher's life worked to his advantage, sending the last of the Curse that had inhabited him tumbling end over end, still screaming vows of revenge as it disappeared into the night. This wouldn't be he last he saw of the Curse… but he didn't know that. For the first time in a decade, Warrick felt alone – even more now that Garrimar and Bala were gone.

Bala!

The dragon roared and dove towards him. The roar warned Warrick of his approach and he pulled himself to his feet, burying his hand deep into his pocket and clutching the first thing it touched.

The last Soul Shard.

He dove, rolling from Nefarian's taloned feet as he landed on the tower; the impact making the stones shatter and the tower shudder. He gasped in pain as he felt his shoulder wrench itself free from its socket when he landed.

Ignoring the burning, he pulled the Soul Shard free of the cloth of his robe and closed his eyes, gripping it tightly.

Nefarian saw the Warlock freeze on the rooftop and laughed, the trumpeting sound echoing upwards and mingling with a clash of thunder.

"Be afraid, Human." He sneered, "Be very afraid."

Warrick didn't hear him, intent on his spell – he muttered under his breath, feeling a familiar soul coming closer from the Nether. As the Dragon Lord rose on his hind legs to crush him into the floor, there was a blinding flash of purple light that sent him stumbling backwards. He tumbled from the rooftop with a trumpeting call of fury and fell into the darkness, landing on the ground with an earth shattering crunch.

Collapsing backwards against the stone barrier of the rooftop, Warrick saw the Soul Shard crumble into a dust that glittered and shimmered. It was swept from his palm, snaking through the rain of its own accord then began to spin in a whirlwind of purple light.