• Light; all devouring, blinding, scorching as the spell takes effect, carrying the two higher and higher, surely their bones are on the verge of snapping-
    A heavy thud sounds as the two land with a soft oof upon the familiar, unnaturally smooth floor of stone. Faerdin was still straining to pick himself up as he held desperately onto the golden blade that gleamed defiantly in the eternal shadow that darkened their kingdom's sky. The ancient symbols along its length glowed a furious white, the metal barely containing the untold might of centuries past.
    "Constantine, where are we?"
    No answer. He looked up to see Constantine already on his feet, absolutely still, like a wounded rabbit that just caught the sound of its doom prowling closer. The soft glow of Deilumae faintly illuminated the man's features; his skin was deathly pale, his eyes open wide and yet seeing nothing but the haunting shadows before them.
    "Constantine-?"
    "He is here."
    "Wha-?"
    An evil sound. Horrible, maniacal laughter that flooded the chamber with the volume and fury of depraved demons, chilling Faerdin to his very bones. A blood-curdling shriek pierced the silence that followed moments before the torches flared upon the walls of the room, dazzling the panicked Runebearer and causing him to blink frantically as his eyes adjusted to the light.
    "NOOO!"
    Constantine lay still upon the floor, a terrible blow having torn apart the plates that shielded his breast. His blood continued to dye the once-shining ground of the chamber deep red as a living, hideous mass of shadows seemed to pulsate and writhe upon the wound that had ended him. Eyes still seeing nothing but darkness, Constantine was pale, and that would never change. Faerdin's friend, rival, mentor, was dead.
    Mocking roars of laughter tore through Faerdin's anguished heart like molten daggers while tears began to blur his vision. Whirling around, Faerdin raised his sword with untamed fury as he poured every ounce of his power into a single spell, but was smashed down and against the wall by an invisible force before he could release his power. Helpless as the might of the blow flung his sword, the source of his magic, from his fingers, Faerdin examined his surroundings only to be filled with terror and despair.
    The stone of the chamber, once glowing beautifully with the rare, white material that it had been crafted from, was now dark and glossy like obsidian. Upon the hollowed throne now sat a tall man, clad in vile plates of pitch black. Wearing the spiked helm like a crown upon his head, Draxieus stood to his full height, a flowing cape of shadows falling past his shoulders as he brandished the worn staff that matched his impressive height. The violet gem at its tip glinted with the same wrathful malevolence of Draxieus' eyes, flames of red and black that remained burning within his skull.
    "Faerdin.. Death rides its pale horse tonight, and it has come for you... and your weak little wench, too..."
    At the sorcerer's haunting words, Faerdin glanced about nervously, his pounding heart shattering completely as he notices a young woman with raven-black hair lying lifeless upon the ground: Reylana. He drew solace from the warmth that remained within her skin; Death had not yet claimed her life, nor her beauty.
    Returning his gaze unwillingly to his ancient foe, Faerdin had no choice but to watch Draxieus' eyes to light up with horrific joy at the sight of his enemy so helpless before him. "Tonight, I end the conflict that has raged between the powers of light and darkness over thousands of years. Tonight, the shadows shall consume all!"
    Faerdin trembled as all warmth fled from the air around him, Draxieus cackling menacingly as the very darkness of the hour brought him to the height of his frightening strength. Steeling himself, the champion of Falimond prepared to meet his end. Faerdin closed his eyes as the dark sorcerer began to weave his most powerful of enchantments, looming over him with all of the authority and power of the wicked, fickle Fates and preparing to finally sever the troublesome thread before him...
    There was a lone voice, crystal clear. The faintest light in the boundless sea of shadows. "Faerdin. Don't let him beat you... I love you!"
    Reylana.
    A chuckle. A warm, delighted chuckle that shocked Faerdin to his very core as he realized that it is spilling from his own lips. Everything seemed unnaturally clear; the only thing that Faerdin could hear was a low humming as Draxieus brought his hand down, his face contorted with concentration.
    Calmly raising his hand, the symbols that ran the length of Faerdin's arm flared with a furious yet pure light as the golden sword flew through the air, returning to its rightful bearer. Faerdin shrugged off the Dark One's fel influence with incredible ease and felt such power, he thought himself to be glowing as it coursed through him.
    Channeling his newfound strength, Faerdin roared terribly to the heavens even as ravenous shadows sprung from Draxieus' palm. Faerdin's spell burst from his very core in a great wave of golden power, tearing through Draxieus' enchantment and smiting him heavily as it came, smashing him through the lavish throne and into the wall opposite of him.
    As the dark sorcerer lay stunned from the unexpected strength of Faerdin's retaliation, Faerdin surrounded the shocked Reylana with a ward of magic. Certain that Reylana was now under his protection, he returned his attention to the sorcerer that had begun to rise to his feet.
    Hatred only fueled the furious flames within Draxieus' eyes as he glared coldly at his opponent, managing to hide his shock just barely. Faerdin concealed his joy at the sight of Draxieus tightening his grip upon his scepter of the damned. "No matter.. you shall only be postponing the inevitable, my friend..."
    Faerdin bellowed as he gathered all of his strength, hurling a bolt of golden energy at his dark foe even as he struck back with tendrils of shadows, the two spells colliding heavily within the air and remaining there as the two sorcerers now struggled to gain dominance over the other. Fear and doubt hung over the combatants like a heartless phantom, eternally eager to steal the souls of men, but Faerdin's heart filled with warmth as thoughts of Reylana pushed all else from his mind.
    Reylana. My love...
    Triumph pulled hopeful laughter from deep within Faerdin as Draxieus let go of his spell with an anguished moan, barely able to evade the blinding jet of light that proceeded to smash violently into the stone wall behind him. Roaring over the sound of his enemy's joy, crackling lightning burst from the palm of Draxieus even as Faerdin pulled a wall of stone from the earth to absorb the fatal shock, then becoming a towering wave of molten rock that spilled down toward the opposing sorcerer.
    A trace of fear glinting within the sorcerer's haunted eyes of flame, Draxieus raised his hands to transform the hot lava into cool water, howling as even then the mass came down heavily upon him, smashing him down to the ground.
    Faerdin roared victoriously as he bounded foward, sword raised. "THIS ENDS HERE, MURDERER!"
    The feeble sorcerer raised his staff in defense as Faerdin cleaved it, shattering the wood within Draxieus' hands completely in two. The glittering gem of darkness upon its top fell and shattered against the ground with a fowl hiss as the symbols along his arm glowed with terrible finality. This was the end. Faerdin knew it as he thrust his sword down, his heart blazing with savage joy as he waited for steel and flesh to unite.
    There was a sharp clang as sparks were flung into the air. Looking down, Faerdin realized that Draxieus was gone. Draxieus, Dark sorcerer, the demon who had plagued his homeland for centuries, had fled from him.
    Exhaustion finally washed over Faerdin, wrapping him in its warmth like a woollen blanket. Someone was talking, running over to him, but all was muffled as he collapsed to the ground. One final thought went through his mind before succumbing...
    Reylana.