Usinore gasped for air and threw herself behind a column. She was nearly spent. She couldn't last much longer in this magical duel. Her eyes darted around the darkened room, trying to spy the Morathi that had to be lurking around somewhere, but nothing caught her notice. She couldn't worry about that at the moment; she had more pressing matters at hand. He was out there, waiting. She only had a few options. She couldn't use one of her more powerful spells. She had to save her energy for what was to come.

Mentally going through the spells she had prepared, Usinore took a deep breath for a moment, refocusing her mind for what had to be done. She clenched her jaw to block out the pain from her previous wounds.

"Usinore, you don't have to do this. It's not worth it. I've seen what comes next. This is your last chance to walk away. You can go home and be with your little girl." the breathy voice taunted somewhere in the background.

She wouldn't be tempted by the voice, as tears streamed down her cheeks. There was only one thing that could be done at this point. Mina would hopefully forgive her someday if Usinore failed to return defeating this ancient evil.

Usinore dashed from the column into the open throne room. Her enemy was waiting. He pointed his index finger at her, chanting a few words in a dark forgotten tongue, and a beam of pale green energy shot in her direction. She reacted instantly, countering her enemy's magic with an arcane gesture. He clenched his teeth in frustration.

It was now her turn. She lashed out with a whip made of lightning she had conjured, wrapping around one of the robed figure's ankles, and yanked the Pact Master to the ground. Taking advantage of her enemy's disadvantage, Usinore quickly released a mote of energy that erupted next to her enemy and created a circle of fire, trapping the mage in the middle of the flames.

This was her chance, and she began to chant the words of the ritual, the spell she had created for this very moment as the heat burned the mage, causing him to scream in pain. The flames illuminated the features of the agonized figure thrashing on the ground. His delicate sharp features that betrayed Sephobis' Elven heritage with dark hair that flowed down just past his shoulders. In another life, in another age, she might have considered Sephobis to be handsome, but not now. His skin had taken on a chalky, almost ash-like hue, most likely from the dark pact he had made centuries ago. He wore dark robes lined with golden trim, but had thick silvery bracelets around his gaunt wrists almost like finely made manacles.

The elven mage slowly began to regain his composure as he got to his feet. Keep concentrating, just a little bit longer, and this will all be over. She kept chanting the arcane words over and over, the incantation of binding.

Sephobis' eyes burned with hatred almost as bright as the flames that were beginning to blister his skin. He raised his hand, dispelling the flames that surrounded him. As Usinore finished the last portion of the incantation, her eyes glowed with purplish arcane power. She pulled out an ornate silver blade and drew it across her open palm. She squeezed her palm, released a small trinkle of blood, as her hand radiated with the same arcane energy.

A shockwave rocked the stronghold as both mages struggled to keep their footing. It was finished. Sephobis was trapped in this structure.

"What have you done wizard bitch? You cannot keep me here. No spell, or power, or god, can restrain me!"

"I beg to differ. My blood has sealed you here, and only my blood can release you. Your dark reign is over."

She turned to leave her enemy screaming with a burning hatred. She blocked out his screams and the world around her. She had done it. She had trapped a Pact Master. Only Cordago had accomplished a greater feat by slaying the head of their order, scattering the rest of them. She breathed a sigh of relief. She could rest now.

The breath suddenly caught as sharp pain rocked her body. She looked down to see a dark blade point coming through her belly. Usinore's warm blood began to pool around her. She turned to see the Morathi, with its hand still on the hilt of the blade. The creature may have appeared to be human, but it's unnatural alabaster skin and blood-red eyes, with ivory hair betrayed a monstrous origin. Its breath smelled of death.

Damn. Usinore realized that at some point, the screams of hatred had turned into howls of laughter.

"I warned you, Usinore, and still you persisted. This is on you," the dark mage said with a smirk.

She had to act quickly, or it would be all over. She drew on her depleted magical reserves to cast a spell, creating a shockwave that threw the Morathi across the room. She would only have moments, as the Morathi were created specifically to resist magic. She hastily exited the chamber, her own blood creating a trail behind her.

She couldn't do the same binding spell for Morathi as she did for the Pact Master, and Usinore didn't have the reserves to have a drawn-out battle against the creature while she was bleeding out. Perhaps she could come up with a makeshift solution to ensure the monstrosity couldn't escape. Though it wasn't nearly as powerful as Sephobis, it could do plenty of harm on its own.

She pulled out her spellbook, a large codex crafted with a thick leather cord connected to a holster on her belt, making it easily secured while still being accessible. She began scribbling a simplistic incantation in the back of the spellbook. It was a rough concept, but it would have to do. The Morathi stepped into the hallway and confidently strode towards her with a dark shortsword in its hand, its twin still embedded in Usinore's torso. She began chanting, and as the Morathi was about to bring its blade down on her, severing her fading mortal thread, she grasped the creature's other wrist and finished the spell. A field of force emerged, throwing the two figures away from one another. The world went black as Usinore slipped into unconsciousness.

Everything was blurry and fuzzy as Usinore made it to her feet. She hadn't been unconscious long, and the Morathi was standing there with its hand pressed against an invisible wall, feeling along it trying to find some crack or weakness.

She was quick to make sure the spellbook was closed and used the pendant around her neck to lock the tome. She limped down the passage away from the trapped Morathi, it glaring at her while still trying to get through the field that separated it from its prey.
The next few minutes passed in a blur, with her vision fading and her head throbbing with lightheadedness, as she struggled to retrace her steps out of the stronghold. She tore a piece of her robe and pressed one hand at the site of the wound to slow down the bleeding. She was losing too much blood. But at least the creature couldn't follow her. The spell was simple but would only hold until she opened her spellbook again. But by then, she might be able to rest and recover. She could bring others to support the effort. Usinore wished she had a healer right now. It was hubris for her to come alone, but she didn't want to risk her students' lives, and the Empire never took the Pact Master threat seriously enough.

If only her father were here! He would know what to do. This wouldn't have stopped him. Nothing could defeat him, not even Titans! She wondered where he was now. She had tried to live up to his legacy, but she felt such a poor steward in the stead of the Paladin King.

There was light up ahead as she stumbled towards the doorway that was the entrance of the stronghold. As she walked into the open courtyard, she noted the broken doors that were singed in parts, remembering the fireball she had used to gain access to the keep in the first place. Stepping into the open air, the sun beamed brightly down on her. Usinore's tan skin shivered in the biting wind. She wasn't equipped for this climate; her loose robes were designed for Keil's warm, fertile lands. Lying in the courtyard were the bodies of a couple of dozen followers of Sephobis, the Pact Master. She had to get through them to battle their master. All of this must-have only happened in less than an hour, but it seemed like forever ago.

As Usinore left the keep behind, she found a tree branch that acted as a simple crutch to help her continue forward. That final spell against the Morathi had completely depleted Usinore. Possibly one of the greatest wizards of this age, only surpassed by Cordago the God Wizard and the First Cabal's mages in an age past, now she was as helpless as any mundane commoner. She couldn't teleport, and she had no healing magic. All she could do is push forward and hope that someone could come to her aid before it was too late.

She slowly forced herself up a nearby hill to get a bearing on her location and figure out what she could do, still painfully aware of the warm blood escaping her body. There were no signs of civilization. Her heart fell, and tears once again streamed down her cheeks. She was nearly out of time, and it was becoming harder to focus.

Images of her sweet young child Mina flowed through her mind. Her playing with mock wooden swords with some of the boys in the tower, the smile and excitement when Mina cast her first spell.

It wasn't fair! Usinore wouldn't see Mina reach maturity and grow into her power. Her daughter was still so young, and so was Usinore. True, she was centuries old, older than any human, had lived longer than the Elves, and was even almost as old as the oldest of Dwarves, due to her unique heritage. But she still had so much to do, so much to accomplish! This wouldn't' be the end of her story. She still had a Tower to build and a legacy to leave behind. No! she would survive!

She pushed herself to keep going. She crested the hill and went a few more steps. A patch of loose soil shifted under her weight, and she lost her footing. Everything was a blur. i Mingled images of trees, dead leaves, and dirt as she slipped down the steep sloped hill.

Snap! The cord of her spellbook broke and the tome disappeared from view as she kept plummeting. Crack! Her side slammed into a large, hard rock, fracturing her hip. Still, she continued to plunge down the slope. She finally came to a stop with a thud. Usinore was on her back, looking up into the sky, her body raw and limp. The warmth drained from her body until she felt more icy than the bitter cold air. The light slowly began to fade, and the world went black.