My fires were stolen, taken in by that bottomless well and repurposed to fit its needs. Now, she glows brighter than any star in the night sky. Have I fed her spirit with my mana?

  The mere act of lunging forward is enough to drive a hole into the floor, each step of hers bringing a plume of fire to the ground beneath her feet. Every hope of salvaging this monument to Grivash’s power has been abandoned - replaced by some fervent drive forward in the pursuit of ending my life. This is a level of intensity, a level of I’ve only been told about.

  Two streaks of golden flames make way for where my neck once was, but I’ve already leapt up once more through the hole in the ceiling. I return a volley of crackling bolts and missiles of mana, only for her to twist and contort her body to avoid them - even as she hops up effortlessly to meet me. What few manage to approach actually hitting her seem to be deterred by the sheer amount of aura flaring out from her body.

  One of those vicious blades stab out toward me, only to miss its mark with my sudden disappearance - to just below her. In the air, and just below where the ceiling once was, I send out three more rippling bolts.

  The two of us are at a sort of standstill, unable to make a mark on the other. A treacherous, teetering balance that would only take a single push to undo. Unfortunately for me, is the first to push.

  With another twist of her body, her other sword cuts through the air - flames and aura thoroughly destroying the spells I sent her way. Had she slashed any sooner, my throat would have been slit wide open. Instead, I’m only lightly scorched.

  If it weren’t for the cloak on my shoulders, that alone would’ve been enough to leave me with some gruesome injuries.

  Not once has it occurred to me that Adeline's way of fighting - her techniques - might be incomplete, until I see Josephine's. A flurry of slash after slash, a never-ending gauntlet of attacks. There are no gaps, no spaces between. And those swords of hers only seem to become brighter with each heavy swing sent my way.

  Threads of mana wrap around my wrists and waist, rotating my body upright and tugging me backward in tandem with the Boots of Levitation. Even as I try to pull away and create distance from her, she intensifies her pursuit. A single swipe misses its mark, but a quick stab works in her favor. Though I manage to break from her, I’m left wounded - my first injury in my second battle against Josephine. My left arm hangs near-useless at my side, my shoulder pierced and burnt - the only thing it’s good for now is keeping a grip on my other knife. I’m lucky that it can even do that much.

  If the battle weren’t so heated, my uncanny resemblance to a stringed-puppet might be found to be comedic above all else. Down winding and labyrinthine halls I go, ferried on magic’s wings while barrage after barrage of spells are cast toward the hunting hound on my trail - though none of them seem capable of making it through my foe’s newfound defenses. Whatever phenomena was responsible for the conversion before is now absent, I can be sure of that much. But if I’m correct, the density of her aura is what’s making her harder to pierce - like a thick layer of leather.

  There’s one last opportunity, then - before my body crashes through glass and sends me sprawling out through to the outside - to break through my enemy’s shield and bring her low.

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  Six bolts fly free from my body, even as I build another. A hope - a desperate, needful hope - builds in my chest that she’ll not notice the seventh I’m creating. The idea I’m using, relying upon now, was much the same with [Barrier]

  Two missiles are cut down from the air.

  Energy builds within the back of my right hand, a swirling vortex gathering speed. I force more and more to occupy the same space, until I can feel it in my skin - in my veins and in my blood vessels, in every twitching muscle fiber and nerve.

  One more follows suit.

  Light - no longer just blue, but a full range of colors - peers out from beneath my delicate flesh. It aches to be freed, just as my body aches. It stands on the verge of bursting, of destroying the body of the soul that made it - because it cannot help its nature. This blood-hungry spell, made only to claw and pierce, wasn’t created to dwell safely within a body.

  Another destroyed - two remain.

  In my mind’s eye I see a familiar field of grass around me, replacing the gaudy interior of this wasteful place. The mountain peaks in the distance are blanketed in fresh, white snow - though my focus isn’t on them. A gathering of trees is before me. Not enough to be called a forest, or a meadow, or anything significant - just a convenient patch of trees. And below one of them, on the edge of this gathering, a deer.

  It takes another bite of the fruit that had fallen from the tree. Only one is left now.

  A tender hand guides my own - I haven’t the strength to raise it myself - toward its head. Toward those dark, peaceful eyes. Time seems irrelevant there, in that space of subtle adjustments and tiny movements. A small smile comes to me when I hear her make a satisfied sound. I’ve done well, I’ve positioned myself as I should, and now I’ve been granted the privilege of claiming another life.

  The spell flies free from my body, and then everything flickers away.

  It’s only for a moment. But when I awaken, when my eyes creak open and my body is under my control once more, I find myself on my back. Above me, the night sky - each and every star choked out by the heavy smoke we’ve made. I clamber to my feet, my pointer finger in agony. It’s of no concern, though - not when I hear her from beyond the shattered window ahead of me.

  I opened the way forward, into the courtyard it would seem. My back bears the proof - and I’m sure it will pain me for weeks beyond this battle. A dozen meters were covered before my spell finally dissipated - from what I can make of it - and so I stand at a comfortable enough distance for now. Waiting for her to emerge.

  Ash falls on my hat, and the rest of the courtyard. I can’t bring myself to move from this place, though. She hasn’t come yet - instead, I can only hear pained gasps from beyond. The smoke doesn’t even allow me to see her through that broken window, just the glow she casts.

  A choked groan causes the light to flicker, then to fade, like a candle’s flame subjected to a small gust of air. A darkened silhouette stands in the smoke now, where that proud glow once did - folded over and quivering. It forces itself upright, fists clenching empty air, lips freeing utterances discernible to no one but it and the gods.

  Then, the silhouette finally speaks with a voice I can hear - Josephine’s. It isn’t really hers, though - it can’t be - just some hollow facsimile.

  “Why..?” It asks, hardly audible over the shifting foundations. “Heavens strike me down… Not then, not now - it’s always over before I can even begin.”

  Somehow it compels itself to move, torso swaying and shaking - its ragged breaths clear to see even without hearing them. Through the smoke to the window’s edge, it takes step after precarious step without a word more. Even as it steps through the opening of the window - using everything it has to avoid - I cannot see more than that shadow. But details come as the smoke clears nearer into the courtyard, as the silhouette exits its medium.

  A single eye glares at me, but even that hate is a dying ember. The other weeps blood, trailing down her cheek - most of it is dried and blackened from the smoke. She asks, “Why?” to nobody in particular - certainly not me - stumbling forward a little to stop herself from falling to one knee.

  That darkened shadow, then, was her all along.

  As mortal as myself.