Later

The smell of blood intruded on his peace. Atzar was alive.

Then everything else came back at once. His sight revealed the plain white quarters that housed him. His ears picked up quiet groans from neighboring rooms; clearly he was but one of many revived fighters. But more than anything, his body felt the experiences of the battle. He felt as if he’d just been pulled out of an oven. Every inch of his flesh was burned and blistered, but at least he was alive.

The revived wizard tried to sit up, but with a grunt he sank back to the cool stone beneath him. His life had returned, but his strength and his energy had not. He felt as if there was a space, an absence inside him. Not long ago, he had controlled an intense barrage of fire, even if only for a short time; now, he wondered if he could summon the power to snuff out a candle. He lay still for a moment, breathing deeply, the battle replaying in his mind.

One particular memory held his attention. He had exhausted himself utterly directing Chef-mage’s inferno. Yet, while he was dying on the old warrior’s sword, he summoned the power for one last hurrah that had nearly been enough to destroy his killer. It felt as if he’d put his life, his very soul into the blast.

Almost on command, Atzar saw the powerful mage walk by in the hall outside. When he noticed the lesser wizard lying on the stone tablet, he stopped and waved. Weakly Kellon waved him in. He wanted to ask him about the end of the fight.

“When I died, I used energy I didn’t think I had left,” he began with no preamble, his own voice sounding weak and foreign to his ears. “It felt almost like I put my life into the effort – like I killed myself for one last shot. How did that happen?”

Out of Character:
And this is my conclusion. I went about two hours over my deadline because I needed to see Christoph's post first - that's allowed under the amendment to the time limit as I understood it.

Thanks for the effort, everybody. This was a blast.

Several, actually.