A/N: For some reason I wanted to call baalors glazebrus, and glazebrus baalors, so I may well have ended up calling them both as we go through this chapter. Any glaringly obvious mistakes, feel free to point them out to me! My husband did a wonderful job of choreographing this for me, but I haven't really done it justice. However, after two redrafts, it'll have to do for now...

General disclaimer: I own nothing, even Maiyn generally decides her own path.

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The Final Showdown

The elven palace was much larger than Anomen had expected it to be, though he had appreciated the immense size of the tree they'd been granted access to. Many corridors wound their way through the trunk of the tree, with open windows allowing plentiful views out and across the city. He paused only momentarily to look out from one of the openings, noting that the walkways across Suldanessellar were much calmer than before; the threat to the town was subsiding as the elves regrouped their forces, their morale climbing once again as they saw the release of their High Priestess, who was now tending to the Queen, and then the breach of the Palace itself.

Many small, regimented groups were marching here and there, checking every last place for any sign of the enemy. The knight had overheard other elves as they scurried past mentioning the larger patrols who had left the city, again, with Elhan at their fore, looking remove the threat from the forest as much as they could. It wouldn't be long before those exiled back at the war camp were able to return to their home along with the triumphant prince.

Anomen felt Nalia brush past as she continued to follow their elven guides, and he hurried on behind her, anxious to reach the destination, and feeling some guilt at his momentary pause to look out over the city. The bodies of their companions, and their foe, had been taken to a makeshift infirmary set-up in the upper levels of the Palace, despite his objections. Demin had, at least, nodded understandingly when he voiced his concern at laying the body of the man they'd been battling beside his companions, but Ellesime had shrugged; tired and drawn, and looking far too mortal to be the ruler of the elven people, she'd allowed herself to be taken away by the Priestess to be tended, and only said she'd that they would all be guarded and observed.

And he was only slightly appeased when he entered the large, somehow airy room, with its high ceiling and sparse decor, noting the makeshift partition that had been erected to separate the evil mage from his companions; his friends. He glared towards the motionless body of Irenicus, making a move to stride over before he was stopped by Solen. The elf shook his head sadly.

"We cannot interfere," he said, his voice sombre and full of sadness. "If we do, we do not know how it will affect the others."

Anomen nodded curtly. "And your Queen does not wish this man to die," he muttered through clenched teeth, turning away abruptly, his eyes locating Imoen lying on one of the plain beds, seemingly peaceful and serene in her unconsciousness.

He hurried over to her side, smiling thankfully at the elven girl who appeared with a small wicker chair, and silently and respectfully left him to be alone. He felt so tired; the fatigue hit him the moment he sat down, but he could not -- he would not -- give into it. He would wait for Imoen to come back; she was an intelligent girl. She would know what she was doing.

Or was she taking another reckless risk?

He sighed, letting his weapon fall to the ground, and immediately wincing at the sound of it as several elves directed inquiring stares towards him from other areas in the room. Most of them were tending the others; checking them for any signs of life. He took more care with his shield, placing it down to the ground gently, noting that there was some activity around Jaheira's form and some quiet murmuring between the Clerics of Rillifane.

His eyes drifted back to Imoen. Her chest was rising rhythmically, and to anyone unaware, it looked as if she'd drifted into a pleasant slumber. His brow creased as he rubbed his forefinger along his forehead. So tired... The battle had not been overly long, but the days -- the weeks, if not the months -- had become heavier and heavier. And now...

Something in his heart told him that she'd survive whatever she was facing. She was a fighter, that much was clear, and Anomen had to believe she'd pull through and wake when they'd concluded their fight. To think otherwise...

The pain of the sudden remembrance of Moira's passing shuddered through him, and he fought to keep his sob silent. With the events happening as they had, he'd put his own mourning aside for the sake of the group, and to better honour the memory of his beloved sister. But now, while Imoen was in danger of becoming lost to him also, it became too much.

His shoulders shook as he buried his face into his hand, turning his head down to try and cover the emotions he could keep in no longer. A gentle arm went around his shoulder, and the scent of wild berries and moss opened up to him and allowed him to seek solace in their arms. And so Anomen wept openly and silently for many long minutes while the Priestess of Rillifane offer what small comfort she could.

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On the other side of the room, Nalia knelt beside Coran's bed, staying a respectable distance from his still form. If she closed her eyes, she could hear his soft breathing, reminding her of the nights she'd spent encased in his arms. Would she ever experience it again? She chided herself; had she not already gone over this in her head a thousand times before? Had she not at least tried to pretend that she accepted it?

But her feelings were not as easily dictated to as servants, it seemed; for despite her intentions, they seemed to rebel against her intentions as much as they could. And now -- especially now -- she was vulnerable to their seduction.

Her eyes opened, and she gazed on his form. He looked peaceful -- they all did, she'd noticed, which had surprised her. She didn't know what she should expect instead -- their faces contorted by fear and pain, perhaps? But she was glad it wasn't so -- for now, she could believe they were safe because they looked safe.

Slowly, tentatively, she reached out, brushing some of his hair away from his face, and letting her fingertips linger on his skin for just a few seconds longer than was necessary. What would happen at the end of it all, she wondered. What would happen to them? Were they to battle the mage? Would it matter who won, or had they all given up their chance to walk on the mortal planes to follow the woman they all loved into the unknown?

She looked over to her right. One of the male clerics was watching Maiyn intently, and by his side stood an armoured warrior. Despite Ellesime's reassurances of guards, there were only two such figures in the room. This particular one never ventured from Maiyn; the other was posted beside Irenicus. Solen was also in the room, but he had discarded his weapons, and was now standing beside the dead druid, frowning as he listened to the hushed conversation of the clerics who seemed to be tending her.

Nalia sighed. She had nothing to do but wait, and to wait alone. A quick glance revealed that Anomen was caught in his own world, looking worn and tired beside the pink-haired mage. It was doubtful he'd willingly leave her side, at least for a while. No, she'd have to wait alone. She knew no one else outside the group, and she knew none as well as she did Coran. Despite... despite the awkwardness of it all, she wanted to be there for him. She wanted to be there when he woke up.

She needed to be.

The sound of padding feet signalled the steady trot of Verya as she slunk into the room, Imoen's squirrel still sitting atop. Without hesitation, she made her way to Maiyn's side, sitting there faithfully as Yessie scampered away and over to Imoen, chittering nervously at his mistress' sleep. Moments later, it was perched on Anomen's lap, allowing him to gently rub his finger against its cheek as they both gazed down on the woman they waited for.

And Nalia turned back to Coran and sighed again.

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With great reverence, though more for the demon's benefit than anything else, Maiyn lightly touched the closed eyes, and stepped back as, one by one, they opened and engulfed her in various shades of light. Then... nothing. She raised an eyebrow at the Keeper.

"Shouldn't the door open now?" she asked.

"Oh, yes," it agreed pleasantly. "As I said before, I can open it whenever you want."

She stared at it. "So... can you open it, please?"

It stared back at her. "You want me to open it now?"

She nodded.

"Are you absolutely sure?" it asked, giving Xan, Imoen and Jaheira very pointed looks. The enchanter cleared his throat.

"Perhaps... it has a point..."

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Jaheira was flanked by fire. The elementals that she'd summoned glowed eerily in that place, and their light caused shadows to flicker across her grim face. It was time for her revenge; time for her to face the man who'd killed her husband. Another spell came from her lips, causing her allies to glow with a faint cyan light for a few seconds. They'd become more attuned to each other; they suddenly felt more aware of each others presences and intended actions.

Imoen stood beside two shadows; the creatures she'd summoned were invisible but completely loyal to her whim. She'd also strapped her bow to her back, drawing her shortsword ready. No other defences were cast -- something inside told her to stay her magic, to preserve it for when it was needed. She resisted infusing her skin with stone and projecting images of herself; instead she became aware, somehow, of a way to do it all when she needed to. One word, she thought -- one word was all she needed. She didn't know how she knew... but she did. Something was telling her. And she believed it -- she trusted it.

Coran stood next to Maiyn, gripping the sword he hated so passionately tightly within his gauntleted hands. He had little to do except wait silently for the others to be ready, steeling himself for what was to come. No words had been spoken between him and the ranger after they left the fake room that he'd found himself in, with her curled up by his side. None needed to be said, it seemed; a smile shared, hands held, they'd arrived back with the others, and all thoughts had been directed towards Irenicus. And so he shrugged off the feelings he had for her brother's sword, aware that it was powerful -- powerful enough to be of use in this battle. And they needed to win -- for Maiyn, for all of them; they needed to win.

Minsc towered above Imoen's small frame, fiercely holding onto Lilarcor as he guarded his witch with her invisible summons. The warrior had faced many enemies since leaving his homelands, but his courage was apparent each and every time his skills were called into display; and there was no exception now. The blood and adrenaline pumping through him called to his primitive senses, urging his primeval survival instinct to come to the fore. The rage was building slowly; only when the murderer of his beloved Dynaheir appeared would Minsc embrace his berserker state and let loose his righteous fury on all opposing them.

Arcane words had rolled from Xan's lips almost non-stop since he'd told them to prepare, and more words poured from his lips as he set his skin to stone. White flashes made them move faster, green tinges filled them with courage. Not once had he voiced any concerns over the upcoming battle; whether he was simply resigned to it as inevitable, or filled with some unnatural hope was unimportant. His mind was wholly focussed on the task at hand, and eventually he nodded silently to Maiyn, signalling the end of the preparations.

And she... she nodded in return. The voices in her head, both, had subsided. One had urged her to use the power she was born with; and another had, more quietly, reminded her of the power she'd been granted. And she'd blocked out her father's voice, much to his anger, and concentrated on the blessings that Fenmarel extended to her. She infused protections around them all, focussing especially on wardings against the evil and unnatural. A blessing on their spirits, a chant for their success in battle. When Xan's nod came, she was ready. The demon acknowledged her sign by lightly touching the door, and drawing back, away from the entrance.

"I'd advise you to be careful," it said, completely deadpan. "The turbulence can catch anyone unaware..."

And then it was gone. For what seemed like several long moments, nothing happened.

And then it started.

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The door exploded inwards, and Maiyn felt herself being swept backwards. The others tumbled after her, all trying to scramble back to their feet as quickly as possible, but it was already too late. Irenicus was already heading towards them, flanked by four of the largest demons Maiyn had ever seen. Her heart sank a little.

"Baalors and glabrezus," Xan muttered. He sounded disappointed.

If you do not use me, you will die.

She ignored her father's veiled threat and concentrated on pulling her swords free, making a bee-line towards the archmage. He paused just before he reached the towering statue in the middle of the room and laughed loudly as his skin shimmered and broke. Within moments, his form mirrored the beast that Maiyn had found herself able to harness through her father's taint. She continued to press forward.

Lights flashed and shimmered around her; a bullet from Xan's sling had caught the Slayer on the arm, and instantly he was surrounded by magical protections that sprang from nowhere to make him almost invulnerable. Xan instantly dropped his weapon, beginning the long process of rattling off counter spells, determined to strip the magic away. Imoen had exploded into a rainbow of her own; a myriad of hues and shades of colour engulfing her as a chain of spells went off one after the other, imbuing her with strength, with skin of stone and surrounding her with a circle of fire that radiated an icy blue.

The two baalors were especially tall; one was black and one was tan in colour, and each had four arms that reached and clawed at anyone who got too close. The glazebrus were smaller, winged with malevolent eyes that glowed with a red glint. Their wings were blue and grey, flapping wildly as they assessed their opponents. Then the black baalor charged the group and Imoen leapt forward to meet it, being joined by one of the stalkers. The young girl stood off against its attacks, her protections absorbing much of the damage as she fought back against.

Coran darted past her, heading towards Maiyn and the Slayer. The blue-winged glazebru moved to intercept him, and he ducked under a swiping claw, throwing himself into a roll to the side, and then sprang back to his feet. He ran a hand through his hair, grinned impishly over to Jaheira, then raised the Sword of Chaos high and brought it down heavily on the demon's back. It screeched in pain, and a jolt passed through the elf as his weapon drew out the force of his victim, imbuing him with stolen strength. He pulled back abruptly, glaring down at the blade with renewed dislike and distrust. The moment wasn't to last, however. The demon was enraged, and Coran only just managed to dodge past it once more, jogging on towards Maiyn.

Minsc's roars seemed to echo around the whole plane, Larry swinging around violently as the berserker stood off against the grey-winged beast, preventing it from nearing Imoen. Jaheira was also engaged in combat, flanked by her elementals as she took on the tan baalor, its four arms snaking out to claw and tear at its enemies as they ducked, dodged and searched for weak points in its tough, leathery skin.

Spell after spell hit Irenicus' Slayer form as Maiyn continued her steady advance, but then she heard Xan's voice changing; it was barely audible over the roar of the battles happening between them, but she could still make out his words even though she couldn't understand them. And just as she drew close, readying her swords in her hands, a wave of heat and aridness washed across. She felt no effects herself, except a passing sensation, but the demons writhed in agony for several moments. To the ranger's dismay the Slayer didn't even flinch.

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Imoen wasn't used to being in such close quarters of combat. It took all her concentration to avoid being hit, and when Xan's spell went off and caused a momentary distraction, she took her chance to wink from existence; quietly murmuring the invisibility spell, and sidestepping the demon's flailing claws. When its attention went back to the fight, it turned on the stalker, ruthlessly tearing it apart with its talons as she crept up, noiselessly, behind. Her heart was pumping in her chest, full of adrenaline and nervous excitement, and she drew her weapon as far back as she could, hoping the creature wouldn't move too erratically. Then, with a slightly manic gleam in her eye, she plunged her sword deep into the base of its back, only just managing to draw her sword free as it twisted and contorted in agony. It fell to the ground, dead, the first victim of the war.

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Coran reached Maiyn's side, throwing himself forward at the Slayer and swinging the Sword of Chaos around in a wide arc. He knew there was a very good chance that his attack would be pointless, but his aim was to distract Irenicus from Maiyn as much as he could; the thought of her being hurt by him again was completely unacceptable. And as expected, the strike had no effect, and the archmage let out a slavering cackle as he uttered several guttural words. Then, he disappeared, and a split-second later he was back, standing a little back and to the side from his original position. Coran could see Maiyn frowning.

"It's not him," she shouted, but Coran was already busy fighting the figure before him. Better to be safe than sorry, he told himself, letting his sword cleave into the image that felt very real to his blows. Maiyn had pulled back slightly, and he could faintly hear her murmuring a plea to Fenmarel. Her words were drowned out as Minsc's roars grew wilder, the berserker continuing to fight and parry his adversary. Imoen had turned to face the blue-winged demon, preventing it from pursuing Coran much to his gratitude... he was busy enough trying to keep Maiyn safe.

Then the air shimmered; the Slayer fighting Coran disappeared, leaving the elf bewildered for a moment, until he caught sight of Maiyn running towards the immense statue. Behind it was the real target; the beast stood, arms raised high above him as he shouted the words to an incantation. One of the fire elementals was lifted by the four-armed demon and thrown across Maiyn's path -- she only faltered for a split-second before continuing her pursuit, but she couldn't reach him before he'd finished his spell. A wave of power coursed from him, knocking her to her feet and causing the others to stumble and lose any spells that had been on their lips. The remaining stalker and fire elemental seemed to just wither and die under its effect, though no one else was too badly injured.

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Jaheira's elementals had been caught in combat with the tan baalor; the druid had taken a moment to pull back, murmuring the words of her own spell until her skin toughened and hardened until it was alike to iron. Then, with a determined nod, she'd leapt forward to continue the attacks as one of her summons was tossed aside, almost casually. Only seconds later, Irenicus' spell had pushed her back again, knocking the wind out of her, and exterminating her elementals. The demon was snarling in rage, now able to completely focus on her, and she had no time to catch her breath.

She rolled away from the first attack, effortlessly finding her way back onto her feet to strike the demon solidly on the side as she darted past it. There was no more time to cast spells; the baalor was intent on fighting her, and though her skin's protections would give her a slight advantage for now, she couldn't rely on them. The others were busy with the other creatures and Irenicus, and to get her vengeance, she needed to stay alive. With her jaw set in determination, she forced herself into a low crouch, and prepared to attack again.

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Coran managed to get back on track first, heading towards the Slayer before Maiyn was steady on her feet once more. She took a moment to see how the others were coping; they'd been successfully breached, they were separated and fighting alone, rather than as a team. But there was no time to change it… nothing to do but hope that they would win.

Jaheira was fighting hard, though the tan demon was a stronger opponent that she was used to -- Maiyn had no idea how long she could last unaided. Minsc was fighting to get back to his feet, but even as he lay on the ground, Lilarcor was slicing through the air, scoring a deal of devastating hits against the grey-winged beast, which snapped at him with a gaping maw.

But what frightened Maiyn the most, was her sister. Imoen had been sufficiently far enough away from Irenicus to avoid being disorientated by his spell; she wore a determined look as she bravely squared off to the creature, using her dexterity and protections to avoid taking any damage from its four armed attacks. Her lips were moving in a silent cantrip, and, Maiyn noticed, her eyes were gleaming with hunger; they shone with a vague lust for the blood to be spilt.

The taint was glowing within her amongst the battle and the carnage, and the first blood that had been spilt had only served to fuel it within her.

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Xan had no option but to return to his familiar chants, aiming spell after spell at the Slayer's renewed protections. Maiyn was sprinting over to fight by Coran's side, despite the fact that the fighter's attacks were bouncing away harmlessly once again. The enchanter's fingers pulled reagent after reagent free from his pouch, throwing a breach, a piercing spell; then with a sigh, he drew out the delicate, ancient leaves he'd found in the elven city, and he began the words to the Warding Whip conjuration that he'd only ever read of Khelben Blackstaff using.

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The Slayer lunged towards Coran, forcing him back, before turning back to face Maiyn, one clawed hand slowly being raised to point at her. The fighter elf swore loudly, dropping his sword from one of his hands as he drew back his gauntleted fist. With amazing force, he swung it round, connecting firmly with the maw of the beast and causing him to stumble backwards and momentarily lose the spell forming on his lips. Coran began to grin; but unfortunately it was not enough. Irenicus rallied his cantrip, and swivelled around, his finger now directing his spell towards Coran, and the elf reeled backwards from the effect and slumped to the ground. He became acutely mindful of his heartbeat over the sounds of the battle, and was well aware that it was slowing down.

Oh no, he thought determinedly. Not again!

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Jaheira managed to bludgeon the baalor hard on the head before she noticed Coran falling to the ground, and she took full advantage of the demon's dazed state as she dashed past it. Maiyn was screaming and launching herself at Irenicus, not seeming to care about the effectiveness of her hits.

The druid crouched down, managing to drag the fallen elf away slightly, and thankful to see that he was still breathing, though it was shallow, and he was weak. She quickly closed her eyes, pleading for Silvanus to hear her from this place, and channelled a spell of healing into the elven fighter before turning back to face off against the demon, taking him away from the still-injured warrior, raining down blows on its toughened skin whenever she had the chance, but failing to cause any real damage.

And then Maiyn appeared, almost backing into the creature as she danced around Irenicus, managing to avoid one set of claws and teeth, only to find herself uncomfortably close to another set. Before Jaheira could do anything to prevent it, the baalor slammed one of its arms into the elven girl, and forced her roughly aside.

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Maiyn fell to the ground, and a burning pain erupted in her chest. She whimpered slightly, her arms and legs trembling as she tried to force herself back to her feet, her swords still in her hands. Just as she drew herself up, she felt another wave of pressure attacking her, forcing its way into her head and clouding her vision. She looked over to Irenicus; he stood there, in his Slayer form, watching her, and he... he was her ally? Behind him, slowly moving, shakily rising to his feet was an elf. Was he the enemy?

The pain of her injury scythed through her as she fell back down to her knees, the clarity being forced upon her without her consent. There was a disapproving feeling lingering in the back of her mind; it was disgusted by her weakness, ashamed of her failings.

Foolish child. You can not survive this without me, do you not see?

And then it was gone.

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Minsc's victory roar came not a moment too soon; he quickly moved on to aid Imoen against her own opponent as the human girl began to tire. The girl managed a weak smile, ducking behind the huge berserker as he charged, and rummaged through her component pouch to find what else she could do.

She saw Maiyn being brushed away forcefully by the tan baalor, the demon pushing her aside when she got too close, before turning its attention back to the half-elf. Irenicus was still being engulfed by Xan's spells, but how long could the enchanter keep countering the archmage's seemingly endless supply of protections?

Suddenly, Imoen felt a strange feeling. It was as if something had joined her, something was... within her. She looked up, slightly afraid, but Irenicus wasn't even looking at her. Whatever was happening, it wasn't coming from him.

Look at your sister, it whispered. Almost fearfully, she turned to look at Maiyn. The elf was struggling; disorientated, confused. She needed help...?

Finish her, the voice said, no longer a vague whisper. She is distracted, weakened. She is not powerful enough to take what is offered to her. You, however... you are.

The power flowed through her veins; she could feel it. All she needed to do was to direct it at Maiyn, and her sibling would be struck down... one less standing in the way.

She gasped, staggering backwards as she took back control of her senses. She had no time to wonder what had happened; the increased magical strength was still available to her, and she took a leap of faith, closing her eyes and murmuring words that she did not know, but seemed so familiar. She hardly noticed as Minsc finished off the blue-winged demon, charging away to aid Jaheira with the tan baalor that remained. All that seemed to matter was the power that had offered itself to her; and, without a second thought, Imoen had accepted it.

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Xan had decided on a change of tactic, and he screamed. His voice was louder, higher, than ever before. It was beautiful, it was engaging -- it was devastating and it was murderous. The noise pierced through the baalor and the Slayer, a withering wail that resounded for several long moments. The remaining tan baalor shuddered visibly, thrashing in rage as it tried to end the pain that it was causing.

The Slayer recoiled also, stepping backwards, trying to escape the sound. Xan held the note for as long as he could, hopeful that his companions would have a chance to regroup. And then his voice faded away, and the effect passed. With a sigh, he pulled out more components, and returned to the task of making Irenicus vulnerable.

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Xan's cry caused Maiyn's spine to tingle slightly, but she was thankful that it was the only effect it had on her. She took the chance to move in, close to the fight again, and joined up with Coran. Jaheira and Minsc had also taken the opportunity to strike at the baalor, and the creature was becoming enraged and angry. She forced herself to look back at Irenicus, and launched forward, swords slashing wildly. One blade managed to tear through his scaly skin, and she cried out in delight and relief, before stumbling to the side in surprise at the noise of the ungodly roar that began to fill the cavern. She threw Xan a wide-eyed look, but he shook his head at her, and jerked his head towards Imoen.

When Maiyn looked over, she gasped; Imoen stood, her arms outstretched, with a vague glow lingering around her body. But what really caught the attention of the ranger were her sister's eyes.

They were glowing with a faint golden glow.

And then Irenicus cast another spell, mirroring the one Xan had cast before; and this time Maiyn felt its full effects, and fell to the ground, gasping for air and water, feeling as if every drop of moisture had been stripped from her body. She saw Coran falling down too, but he seemed to avoid most of the effects, only wheezing slightly as he reached behind to his pack, grabbing a healing potion and tossing it over to her. She managed to grab at it with what little strength remained inside, and she clutched it closely to herself as she pulled the stopper out and tipped the contents into her mouth, embracing the liquid. As the last few drops trickled down her throat, her eyes widened in surprise, and she began choking.

Right in front of her, a massive reptilian head formed and the roar only grew louder and louder. Imoen's hands were pointing at it, her eyes delirious with the power she was wielding. And then it breathed. Fire shot from its maw, directed at Irenicus and causing him to stagger to the ground, roaring in fury. The attack was brief, but strong.

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Coran heard Jaheira calling out as she tumbled to the ground, cornered by the remaining demon. He managed to get back to his feet and he ran over, throwing himself in front of the baalor's claws as it shattered through her ironskins. Minsc leapt onto its back, driving Larry through its skin over and over again until it fell to the ground, lifeless. Then, finally, there was only Irenicus left.

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Lilarcor shouted indignantly as Minsc let him drop unceremoniously to the ground and drew out two maces from the straps across his back. "Minsc has had enough!" the berserker bellowed, flexing his weapons as he advanced upon the Slayer. "The evil mage has hurt too many of Minsc and Boo's friends, and now you will face the liberal butt-kicking as was given to Sarevok!"

And then the maces smashed into Irenicus, causing the Slayer form to scream in rage and pain as the skin was bludgeoned and the blood began to run. Irenicus pushed himself forward, shouldering Minsc away to gain a few precious moments, and instantly a spell formed in its maw and a bolt of light shot forward, engulfing the berserker and turning him into stone.

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Coran was kneeling beside Jaheira, but the druid was unconscious. Imoen had been standing in a trance-like state, but as the spell hit Minsc, she seemed to snap back to reality, and cried out in dismay before she began her own chanting; Maiyn hoped it was some kind of counter effect. Xan was nowhere to be seen; with a deep breath, Maiyn closed her eyes and prayed for a miracle.

Then Coran was beside Irenicus, and the Sword of Chaos glowed brightly as it sliced into the flesh and sapped its victim's strength. Coran seemed to grow stronger, his wounds healed faintly, and for the first time, he grinned with appreciation at the weapon. Maiyn wasted no time in joining him, awkwardly trying to strike the archmage with her swords, and losing one quickly in the furious fighting. With only one weapon remaining, she fell back into the easy pattern that she'd shared with the elven warrior many months before, and they attacked and protected in rhythm.

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Imoen let fly her spell, and a flash engulfed Minsc; the warrior fell to the ground, no longer encased in his stone prison, but too injured to be able to move. Imoen turned back to Irenicus, rattling off another spell to dispel his final protections, urging the words to come as quickly as they could, but it she wasn't fast enough. Coran was pushed away with apparent ease once again, and Maiyn tumbled to the ground as she tripped due to a badly timed lunge. The Slayer towered above her, raising its claws as it prepared to strike...

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But then a white light flashed and his torso exploded with a cyan light. He screamed in agony as the moonblade shone ferociously before being swiftly pulled free again. As he slumped to his knees, Xan stood there, a grim look on his face, and the action was repeated until the beast shimmered and disappeared, and the form of Irenicus lay on the ground, covered in blood and barely breathing.

Maiyn pulled herself back to her feet, ignoring the pain in her chest as it continued to burn, and walked slowly over to the enchanter. He looked up to her and nodded, and she knelt down, reaching out and touching the archmage lightly. She shuddered as the sensation coursed through her and she felt whole again; the hollowness disappeared, the soul was returned. A look around at her fallen and injured companions showed a price had been paid.

And then... they began to disappear.

First Minsc, and then Jaheira. Coran gave her a helpless look before he winked from existence, and Imoen avoided her gaze altogether before she, too, vanished. Maiyn gave Xan a panicked look, and he arched an eyebrow at her.

"I believe it's time for us to part," he said simply, not looking at all surprised as the phantom moonblade disappeared from his hands.

Maiyn simply stared at him. To her surprise, he smiled.

"You've won, Maiyn," he said. "Your soul is back. Your companions... they have gone from here -- the magics of the Queen's clerics will be strong enough to bring them all back to the mortal plane, I daresay."

"And what about you?" she asked, her stomach tightening.

"I told you before. My sword has claimed me now. I exist here until you go, and then I will become one with it until... until the right time, I suppose."

She shook her head. "No, there must be-"

"Maiyn," he said, firmly, gently, cutting her off. "There is no other way. It is how it is, and how it has to be. I chose this. I did this because at least this way, I had some control over what happened to me. Now, I no longer have to fear when my death will come, as... in a strange way, it won't. I have cheated death, but the price to pay for that, is to give up life. It is not a wholly bad thing, though..." He paused and gave her a fond look. "Though there are some aspects I will miss terribly."

"Xan..." Her voice was trembling.

"No. Say no more," he said, drawing her into his arms and holding her close. "It has been both a pleasure and an honour. And I... I will live on, in a way. If... if you want it, of course." He could feel her nodding in his arms. His voice cracked slightly, his throat felt dry.

"Then... speak of me, when the time comes. And..." He sighed. "Try to protect it from the Blade, if you can. Its burden is heavier than its honour. I do not want... I would rather... Well. You know."

She sobbed, refusing to let go of him and he gently stroked her hair.

"It is time," he said simply. "Remember me; that is all I ask. Amin mela lle..."

And then the tugging sensation came back. She spoke, but no sound came, and she felt herself pulled from his arms, reaching towards him but unable to fight against the sensation. She called for him over and over, but he could only watch her go with a wistful look; resigned to his fate. The fate he'd chosen in order to help her.

Then... it all went black.