Compared to the Qunari, the Mages of Kirkwall were a collection of bumbling idiots. I mean, I was hardly a General myself, but the difference was just that extreme. Their attacks had no coordination, no focus. They were cowardly, staying well back, often fleeing as soon as their barriers took any hits at all. Where they should have been focusing on the gate, on the obvious weakness of the blackened southern wall, they wasted their time and energy attacking the west side, which was only decent defense we had. As far as I could tell, the fact that we were still on the wall in numbers was apparently the only reason they were so focused on it.
Unfortunately for us, they were idiots with both unlimited cosmic power, and plentiful canon fodder.
Their second attempt had them find the Qunari's siege ladders, directing their minions to haul them into position. We beat that attack back mostly by harassing the mages, who seemed to need to see what they were directing their lyrium slaves to do. Learning from that, they came back a half hour later with a group of the bigger monstrosities, using them as walking meat shields to hide behind.
A few of their minions actually gained the walls that time, forcing many of us to switch to swords. Fortunately their merely Human bodies still died when you stabbed them, or else our defense might have fallen apart then and there.
Seeing the fighting atop the wall, a few of the mages had tried to come up, and Merrill had promptly cut loose with her own blood magic. She'd killed one outright with her blood-boiling spell, then turned the second into a blood puppet, forcing him to break the skull of a third before burying a knife in his own heart.
That had broken that attack up, giving us more precious time to get the hurrying civilians away, and to guzzle down some water and rest our aching arms.
Attack number four was just a repeat of the third, made more desperate as Merrill ran out of mana, as I needed to keep mine saved, as our quivers began to empty. We began to take losses of our own when they gained the wall in greater numbers, when new mages arrived to throw spells rather than merely direct their puppets. Fire and lightning cut down several of us, took more off of the wall to help the wounded get to the Eluvian.
The only thing that saved us that time was the fact that they seemed to be running out of their minions, and the mages themselves weren't about to come out and try to scale the wall. It took them a bit to realize just how few of their blood-slaves they had left, but once they did, they pulled them back and started something new.
Led by a woman's ringing order, they began blasting away from long range, turning my old bombardment plan against us. Clearly trying to make us duck and cover, if not outright kill everyone still on the wall. To do what they should have done several hours ago, and take the walls down without us being able to do much of anything in reply.
"Last citizens are in the courtyard!" Fiolya gasped, leaning on her bloody sword. "I told the militia to start lining up behind!'
"Good-down!" I shouted, throwing myself to the stone. My squire was right next to me the moment before the lightning bolt roared through the air we'd just occupied, making our hair stand on end.
Another spell came in farther down, blowing part some of the protective stone, and sending one man falling into the street behind, screaming when he landed.
"Fuck! Off the wall! Everyone down! Move! Fall back!"
Exhausted and battered members of the Watch began retreating, ducking as low as they could as more spells came screaming in. Many flew high, clearly trying to catch any archers, while others kept trying to blast their way through the stone.
At least a few more of our people died in those last moments on the wall. Thrown off of it to fall screaming, or struck by a lucky spell coming through the gaps in the crenelations. Everyone else scrambled down the stairs, rushing into the street, collecting those who were still alive even after falling from the heights.
My squire and I were the last ones off, waving for everyone else to go past us. Only then did we head down, meeting up with an exhausted Merrill at the base of the stairs. She was still woozy from the blood she'd used in the earlier wave, blood that we had no potions to recover, but she'd clearly downed her last lyrium vial from the feel of her barriers.
"They're coming again." I told her, "Let's not be here when they make it up this time!"
We all ran down the street, into the old courtyard. Sure enough the last of the civilians were shuffling quickly past the Vhenedal, the militia following in a nervous line behind them. Older members of the Watch were getting the senior warriors into firmer lines, keeping their attention on the south and west, what arrows we had left set to strings, while everyone else held swords and spears at the ready.
Nearly there. We were nearly there.
I heard the magic on the wind, felt the mixed sensations of too many mages working together. Felt it concentrating as the spells took form.
"Both sides!" I shouted, "Be ready!"
It was the only warning we had before the first spell roared in like a freight train, throwing our old gate into the air like a child's toy. The massive slabs of iron were nearly molten when they flew into the courtyard, tumbling to smoke upon the ground.
I barely heard the second spell against the ringing in my ears, though I certainly saw plenty of debris falling from the hole they'd just blasted up from Darktown. Another thing they should have done hours ago.
Not that I had much time to pay attention to that, since the Mages finally came for us themselves.
True Abominations led the way. Men and women who'd given themselves over to Demons of Rage, their misshapen bodies radiating with the heat of their patrons, their voices vibrating in my chest when they called out promises of pain and death.
Merrill and I cut loose at the same time; not with force or lightning, their barriers could have held against either. No. I flared my brightest light into their eyes, while Merrill drew a shroud, making sure our allies could still see.
As I'd seen before, their barriers weren't configured to deal with something as basic as a mere light spell, and they screamed in pain and surprise at the assault on their eyes. Their charge became a stagger. Fire spells whipped out from hands and molten staves, but their lack of aim saw them merely set buildings alight, or scorch the soil.
The Watch's last arrow volleys broke through the barriers of four, putting them down, leaving me to charge in with my rune-covered sword to hack the last two to death up close and personal.
"North! More to the north! Form up!"
I kicked the last corpse off of my blade, whipping my head around to see an old veteran shoving the militia back into ranks, getting their long weapons set to meet the charge of more red-lyrium slaves boiling out of the street, having come up from the old sewers. Even from that direction there weren't many of them, we must have killed damn near all of the ones in this part of the city, but I could see more of the monstrosities coming up behind them.
My first step that way was aborted when one of the big bastards came lumbering down the stairs with a challenging shriek, the crystals growing from its chest formed into armor around its head and heart.
Throwing myself to one side let me dodge its attempt to crush my skull, my thin sword slicing open its other arm as I went past. The thing was fast, faster than it had any right to be, and caught my barriers with its rapid swing. Snarling, I ducked a third, cut open a thigh, then had to leap back to avoid getting grabbed.
Fiolya flew past on my right, her longer blade hacking at its other leg. Rearing back in pain, it flailed at her, then jerked when two of the Watch charged in to ram spears into its unarmored belly. Pinned in place, it could only howl when a third came in, guiding their own spear into its open mouth.
More of the Watch came up, a line of Elves ready when more of the things appeared, surrounded by the smaller forms of corrupted Humans.
My sword rose and fell as the two lines met, using the elegant weapon like a cleaver, hacking and butchering anything that got in front of me. To either side men of the Watch protected my sides with their shields, their own swords rising and falling. Merrill's staff thrust over my shoulder at any target she could see, helping cut down everything that came at us.
And for a few, awful, bloody minutes, we held the line.
Elves fell. Dragged down and swarmed by unarmed men and women, controlled through their blood. Crushed by the monstrosities. Killed by the mages who appeared on the steps, throwing the occasional spell down to amuse themselves, reveling in their power. Realizing that we didn't have any archers left, that they could get closer, pick out individual targets to unleash their magic upon.
We held until the Chantry bell began to toll, and I prayed that was the signal that it was time. That everyone was through.
I prayed, and I cut loose with the magic.
"Fuego! Pyrofuego!" I heard myself screaming as I shoved every ounce of mana I had into one last spell, one final effort to cover our retreat. "Burn you sick fucks!"
The fire that screamed out from the tip of my sword blackened the blade, scorched the armor of everyone around. Made my own allies scatter back in surprise and fear, even as it played over the things attacking us.
I swept the torrent of blue-orange napalm from left to right, then back again, covering everything in front of me. Catching every one of the blood-slaves I could see, and those mages whose greed had seen them come the closest.
Blighted men and women simply seemed to melt under it. Their bodies washing away from the molten heat. Red lyrium crystals shattered like glass, releasing puffs of red lightning into the air, dissipating into nothing a moment later. The spellcasters themselves fared little better; their barriers popping, the heat setting their robes alight, turning them into living torches.
I pushed myself past the point of exhaustion to get the last dregs of it into the mass attacking the militia, trying to give them some cover too. Giving them a precious few seconds to hear Merrill's shout.
My barely-there barriers thrummed painfully as the Lyrium's effect pushed in, trying to get to me. Trying to make me succumb to its horrible song.
"Run!" She yelled, grabbing me when I staggered, nearly falling. "To the Eluvian! Run!"
There was nothing orderly about that retreat. It was flight from things no one had expected to see, no one had expected to battle.
The militia piled through the Chantry doors, the rush only slowing when the line had to narrow to get through the warm green light of the Eluvian at the far end. At the back of the line, Merrill and I turned to face our enemy again, even if my sword was shaking in my grip.
Fiolya was doing her best to keep her own blade steady when she stepped up on my right, the seventeen year old's eyes wide as we stared at the Alienage. To either side more of the Watch stayed in line as well. All of them older, all of them with the same expression as the young woman beside me.
All of us staring as our home filled with monsters, smoke, and flame.
"Back." I rasped. "Step!"
We all shifted back one step, the surviving mages staying well away from us, keeping the last half-dozen monsters close to heel. They couldn't know I was tapped out. That Merrill wasn't much better. They couldn't know why we were retreating into a building they could easily set on fire later. Couldn't know what the glow behind us really was.
"Step!"
Our retreat was slow, a man behind me tapping me on the back when we had room, when the line of fleeing men and women progressed farther through the narrow mirror. Some of the mages began to spread out, using their magic to blow open closed doors instead of just opening them. Others directed their creations to rip them apart instead, clearly looking for the Alienage's citizens. Probably hoping to torture us by torturing them right before our eyes.
"Step!" My heel hit the step into the Chantry, and I changed the order. "Everyone else inside!"
The Watch pulled back one at a time, joining the press of people within. I couldn't look back, but the man at my back kept me updated. "Last of the militia is through! We're going in now!"
"Keep moving!" I called, standing my ground, staring down the mages. Daring them to call my bluff. "Go!"
His presence behind me vanished, and soon enough I only had my squire and my lover on either side.
I was about to tell Fiolya to fall back, for all of us to head through, to slam the door closed, when the pressure on my barriers doubled. My flinch became a gasp when it suddenly got even worse, my barriers melting away, leaving me to recoil at the horrible power. Merrill's comforting magic wrapped around me a second later, my lungs filling with air, and my vision clearing just in time to see the reason for the pressure.
First Enchanter Orsino walked down the stairwell, a slender staff held in one hand. It was made of dark wood, unadorned, aside from a gleaming red icon atop it.
The Lyrium Idol flared when my eyes fell on it, making Merrill hiss, drawing back a step.
"There you are." Orsino called, voice ringing far more deeply than it should have. That staff shifting as he casually walked forward. "I had hoped to speak with you last night, but the Ox-men delayed things. A stubborn lot."
I was grabbing my friends before he even finished, trying to haul them back into the building while he went into a monologue.
Orsino tilted the staff forward when we made to run, and...
...and the next thing I knew I was picking myself up off the ground, spitting out dirt, and trying to figure out how the hell I'd ended up a dozen yards away.
Looking up let me see that the entrance to the Chantry was just fucking gone, an almost perfect circle blown into the stone. Inside I could see Merrill and Fiolya trying to scramble out of the wreckage of cots and pews, and just beyond them, the last of the Watch vanished through the Eluvian.
I was just standing when Orsino, an almost polite smile on his face, lazily twirled the staff once, making me realize that Merrill's barriers had shattered.
The freight-train hammer of red lyrium slammed into my brain, made all of the worse because I didn't pass out. Because I could feel my throat tearing with my screams, feel the bloody tears running down my face. Could hear the song of a million diseased throats in my ears. Could feel the horror of knowing that Orsino could control it.
A broken flash of lightning cut that horrible music, letting me gasp, clear my eyes.
Let me see Merrill throw a second spell that the First Enchanter effortlessly turned aside with a barrier, that same polite smile still in place.
"Come now, Dalish." He chided her. "You should be joining us, rather than making deals with hypocritical whores."
Merrill tried to twirl her staff once more, to call up another spell, but she was running on empty. All she managed to do was stagger, barely planting it in time to lean on it.
I found my voice when I saw my squire rush to her side, the girl gamely trying to keep her sword up, as if it would help.
"Fiolya!"
Her name was all I could manage. A desperate, unspoken order contained within.
Fiolya heard it all the same. She froze for a moment, then dropped her sword to grab Merrill with both hands. My exhausted lover wasn't ready for it, couldn't try to resist, couldn't fight her off when the younger woman hauled her back, spinning her around.
"Maeve!" Merrill's scream was the last cry she managed before Fiolya shoved her through the Eluvian.
She vanished through the curtain of light a bare instant before Orsino cut loose with one more negligent blast.
I got to see that one from a distance. Watch as a red ball of light flared to life for a bare moment before exploding outwards. It threw Fiolya off of her feet, pitching her head-first through the mirror she'd been standing in front of. That same mirror slammed backwards from the impact. It had too much weight to be thrown, but its small base couldn't keep it upright.
It fell backwards at once, with enough force to actually bounce from the impact.
The green glow vanished.
Glass shattered.
And... and I was trapped with the monsters.
Orsino clucked his tongue in the silence that followed, staring curiously into the Chantry. His tone was conversational, "What was that artifact? I don't believe I've seen the like before."
I got one knee under me, then a leg. I wobbled when I stood, voice rasping back at him. "None of your fucking business."
He rolled his eyes, turning to face me properly. A half-dozen of his mages spread out to either side, three of the monstrosities looming behind them. Called back from their casual attempts to break into homes, the mages among them clearly confused and furious that there wasn't anyone else present.
"Are you that eager for death, Black Knight?" He asked. "You truly wish to leave this world without knowing why? What any of this is about?"
I spat a bit of blood to one side, looking around for my sword. It was a few yards away, too far to grab.
"You're a lunatic playing with crap you don't understand." I said. "You're working with the Venatori. They probably fed you some bullshit about making a new Imperium where mages rule the world again, with you as Kirkwall's Magister or some shit like that."
The other Elf blinked rapidly, then actually chuckled. "Ah. They did tell me you would be disturbingly well informed. I see they were right about that."
"Maeve." Longing whispered, voice urgent. "Your Catcher was with Merrill! You have to run! Get away!"
I couldn't. I could barely stand up.
"They also," Orsino went on, "Said that you had the most remarkable reaction to true lyrium. I see they were right about that."
My mouth was opening when a long finger tapped his staff, and my world became hell once again.
I don't know how long he let the lyrium ravage me that time. Let its song deafen me to everything except pain and horror. I felt my tether to Longing snap as it had the first time I'd touched that awful thing, brutally severed in a way that made everything hurt even more.
All I knew is that when he pulled it back I was in a fetal position, and my face was covered in my own blood. A second wave of his staff sent a few drops water splashing down to clear my vision, making me flinch, blinking rapidly to see that he'd moved to stand directly over me. Letting me see the flecks of gleaming red in his eyes.
When he spoke again, there was nothing polite or casual remaining in him. "You are the worst kind of traitor. A hypocrite, worse than any whore, who sold herself body and soul to the evil of the Templars. I am supposed to kill you, as I killed the Viscount, in exchange for the gift of this staff. For the knowledge of true lyrium. For the great spells I was taught."
He'd killed... no. That didn't matter.
He was about to kill me. That was what mattered.
And I... I didn't want to die.
"But before I do that, I want to know why." He went on. "Why the Venatori call you Interloper. Why they are desperate to see you slain. If you tell me, I will kill you cleanly. A quick snap of your neck. If you refuse... well, I am curious to see what would happen if you were to be fed a crystal."
"Maeve!" Longing sounded impossibly distant, as if screaming from across a canyon.
I'd gotten Merrill away. I'd gotten her away. She was safe. She was safe.
I didn't want to die.
"It's quite fascinating to see what it does to those it is implanted within. To track its progress through their body, as its crystals expand. In the long term its quite lethal, but in the short term it causes the most remarkable adjustments. Greater muscles, denser bones, an almost total tolerance to any pain." Orsino paused. "But then, their sanity seems to vanish rather quickly. You, though. I wonder if you would die even faster, or perhaps... would you be able to speak for the lyrium? I'm told that might be possible."
Merrill was safe, but I was going to die.
No mysterious power-up was coming this time. If I was going to get one, it would have already come. It always seemed to come when I was most desperate, most exhausted. When I was surrounded by death. I was all of those things... and there was nothing. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe the lyrium was stopping it.
It didn't matter.
I was going to die.
I couldn't fight off the lyrium again. It would kill me if he let it out again.
I didn't want to die. I didn't want to never see Merrill again.
I...
"...let me up." I croaked. "And... and I'll tell you. Just don't... don't do that again."
Orsino considered me, then casually took a few steps back. Staying well away, the taste of his magic filling my mouth with more blood when he called up a barrier, clearly ready for a trick.
It took me several minutes to even manage to kneel. My hands rose, wiping at my face. Even with my impromptu bath, they came away bloody. I stared at the red liquid, closed my eyes for a moment as I settled on what had to be done, on the only option I had remaining to me. Then I resumed trying to get up to my feet.
"Maeve!" My demon cried, desperate, unable to feel just how impossible her pleas were without our tether. "Run! Get away!"
The First Enchanter stared me down as I finally managed it, swaying a little.
"Tell me, Black Knight." He ordered, voice cold. "What makes so many people think that you are important? What made you betray your own people?"
I took a final breath, and when I let it out I reached into my soul. Found what pathetic few little sparks of magic I had left. Not enough for a spell, not even enough for a light.
But I had enough to push into my blood to make it glisten. To offer it as I spoke a single word.
"Longing."
Orsino scowled. "Longing? What nonsense is... hypocrite!"
The red lyrium screamed in, only to splash across the barriers swirling to life around us.
"Shields up, red alert." The words were a purr out of our lips, our spine straightening as we felt the power flooding into us. Our eyes blinking against the sight of our own arms blurring between armor and purple skin, between gauntlets and clawed fingers. We felt taller, stronger, and yet lighter than we'd felt in eons. Our lips curled as we pulled in more magic, ready to finish this. "And we believe that we are done talking with you. Schwert."
A negligent wave sent purple sparks roaring out, crashing into his shields. They held, but the sheer power in the strike drove him back several staggering steps. Tossing both arms out, we adjusted our barrier to one perfected by a Warden in the Third Blight; two spinning layers of protection to shed aside magic and corruption alike.
"Schwert." The second call sent more sparks out, seizing our sword, returning it to our hand, though our lips kept moving after. "I am not happy about this, Maeve."
"We'll deal with it later." We told ourselves, pointing the blade at the first of the monstrosities as it charged in. "Fuego!"
"Kill her!" Orsino's bellow covered up the thing's dying screams as it was burned down to its bones, the First Enchanter retreating a dozen paces, waving for the others to attack. "Kill her now!"
We couldn't help but laugh at his cowardice, at his stereotypical villainy. Our blade rose, feet kicking off as we charged the nearest of the mages, our legs moving faster than they had any right to. A desperate burst of force was sent twirling aside by our protection, our blade carving through his own protections.
He couldn't scream when we killed him; we'd cut his throat open to his spine.
A monstrosity was quick enough to intercept us when we moved for the next one in line, but it had no barriers to save it from our own spells. Nothing to stop us from hurling it up and over our heads with a bit of magic, pitching it into a burning building.
Two mages stood beyond it, screaming out challenges as their magic came together in fire of their own.
"Fire?" We catcalled, plunging into their inferno, "We were born of this!"
They didn't get the quote. Just as well, we opened the heart of one a few seconds later, and beheaded the other.
Sliding to a stop, we turned, sword up and ready, feeling our lips twisted in a vicious smile as we stared down the three survivors now huddling near their leader. Felt the exultation of victory swelling inside of us, that wicked amusement running deeply within. It was a feeling a part of us wasn't used to, that part of us felt disturbed by, but that was for later. For now we twirled our blade, shedding the blood coating it, and brought a mocking hand up to beckon to the survivors.
Unwilling to offer battle without their leader, they cowered beside him, one shakily ordering the last monstrosity forward.
Our eyes rolled, and our body did the same as we plunged between its legs, sword whipping left to right. The hamstringed beast collapsed with a yowl, the mages doing nothing when we casually strolled back, plunging the sword into the back of its skull.
"Can we move this along?" We asked, weapon coming to rest on a shoulder. "You've made us late for a reunion with our friends."
"As if they would accept you now!" Orsino spat, red sparks swirling in around him as he gathered power. "I would have killed you cleanly, but perhaps this is better! Now the whole of the world will see you for the monster that you are!"
We hummed, "His insults needs work."
"They do." We agreed, "But we are in a rush, aren't we?"
The red light of his spell hit nothing as we sprinted left, the explosion merely jostling our barriers a bit. Orsino's little minions in damnation had learned from the death's of their fellows; they stuck to lightning, the quicker magic actually striking home as we charged in.
Our outer protection collapsed, but the inner layer held as we neared Orsino, falling into a lunge.
He snarled, then vanished in a blur of his own, red light flashing as he fade-stepped a dozen paces right. Letting out our own scream of frustration, we gutted one of the others, parried a desperate swing of a staff, then snapped our attacker's neck with a quick spell.
The sole survivor fled in terror, at least until we murmured, "Schwert."
Our sword leaped from our hands, cut through their barriers, and plunged into their chest.
And then it was just us and Orsino.
We didn't call our weapon back, we didn't need it to deal with him. We just smiled, refreshed our protection, and began walking forward. Again he tried to cast his enormous spell. Again we simply darted to one side, too fast for him to adjust, leaving him to blast a useless crater in the courtyard.
Again he tried.
Again we dodged.
"Schwert." We murmured as we passed a dead man of the Watch, his spear flinging itself as if it had been shot from a canon. Wood and metal shattered against Orsino's own barriers, making him flinch, dispelling yet another blast to concentrate on his protection. "Schwert!"
Another weapon screamed through the air. Then another. Then another. Driving him back, leaving him staggering. He tried another fade-step, only to see us casually curl our hands, arcing the sword we'd thrown. Making sure it found its mark.
His back hit the trunk of the Vhenedal, his thin shoulders heaving with exhaustion. Ruby flecked eyes glared death at us as we called another spear to our hands, leveling the long weapon at his heart, our lips pulled back from our teeth. A wild, almost sexual excitement making us quiver, knowing that we had our prey cornered. That soon enough his life would be ended, the hunt concluded.
We had him, and he knew it.
We should have remembered our own desperation to avoid death.
We should have remembered the final battle of the second game.
A moment before we could lunge in, he shot a hand up, grabbing the idol with his bare skin, his cry filling the air. "I need you!"
Our fancy barriers saved our lives when he became the center of an abrupt explosion, hurling us backwards. We hit the ground in a hard roll, bouncing back up to our feet to see him standing before a burning tree. His eyes were closed, one hand still closed around the idol. It fell slowly as we watched, his eyes opening to reveal pure crimson glaring at us.
"We will never be slaves again!" He roared, "You will die in agony for your treason!"
We said nothing. We merely called up our fire, and let it fill the air. Orsino retaliated with waves of red lightning, our power colliding as we threw down with pure magic. Trying to slip spells around, to arc them, to divert others. To find one another's barriers, to force the other to defend, to break through and end it.
The Alienage began to burn all around as the magic ran wild, the soil itself splitting from the heat and corruption in the air.
His power cracked our outer barrier again, then withdrew when we shattered his, forcing him to pull more back to defend himself. We tried to press the advantage, again hurling weapons from his sides, only for more lightning to scream out from his staff, fragmenting them in the air.
Our advantage faded as we slowly began to tire. As the power flooding through us dimmed, our mortal body once more succumbing to its exhaustion. As Orsino seemed to grow taller, the glow in his eyes brighter, feeling the turn of the tide. Knowing that his sacrificing of his followers had drained us, his Idol giving him greater strength than we could pull from our disparate parts.
We fell back one step, then another, forced to draw more and more of our mana into our barriers. Our only hope to survive, to stall him out until he exhausted himself with his flashy, wasteful spells.
Our feet hit that stone step one more time, carrying us into the ruined entrance of the Chantry, just as Orinso planted his feet, staff twirling as he let his other spells fade. As he began calling a new conjuration together; a mass of power like nothing we'd felt before... yet it was familiar to a part of us.
An old, terrible pain that we had never recovered from.
"I think that is enough." He told us. "It is time for you to join Dumar. Two spineless cowards, together in oblivion!"
Our heartbeat once.
Our mana churned within the barriers keeping the corruption at bay.
Our hands rose, a bow coming together out of the ether in our left, an arrow in our right. The weapon was beautiful, just as it had been the day it had been given to us. Made of the strongest ironbark, infused with magic beyond any in this pitiful era. Decorated with golden paint, depicting every prey that we had ever pursued.
Magic poured into both. The arrow and string began to glow with golden light, just as our sword once had. It filled the air long before the sunrise, clashing with the flare of crimson filling the sky around the one corrupted by the Void.
He stared us down, teeth bared.
We bared our own, aiming for his heart.
His spell roared forward, our fingers released. The shaft of golden light cut through his magic, through his barriers. It took him from his feet to the tree twenty yards behind, pinning him to the bark, his corpse slumping down at once, staff dropping from limp fingers.
Our satisfaction did not last even a single heartbeat, as his death curse screamed in. Our weakened barriers shattered, our lips parting in a scream as red light filled our vision, as pain ravaged every part of us.
And then everything turned to darkness.
