Emotions ... feelings.

The first was utter shock, surprise and elation. As her white blade, as shining as the morning star, plunged through dark clothes and charred skin of the man who was their last enemy, Philomel took in a breath. Here it was, her legacy, her death-stroke, giving what the mighty faun could towards ending this man's life. Heart beating like a drum heralding thunder, she watched in awe as Nameless, for so was the sword called, slid smooth and unhindered through armour and flesh, to protrude out from the other side of the being that remained.

The Veridian's last footing was lost. A yowl rose as he slipped and began to tumble into his known fate. As he did he desperately lunged out with a last, projected bite of flame, centering it on where Nameless' tip extruded. It fell to naught, for it had been his final determined act with a severely weakened body. Tumbling, he twisted down into the void beyond, meeting the endless world acceptingly. At that point Philomel felt utter loss - but as equal acknowledgement as he.

It had been a long time coming - the fox-formed earth-spirit had bravely endured the calls of death and slipped out of as many blows from the enemy as he had been able to. Several hits in, and one lasting bad paw, and he had gone.

Finally.

And then - then there was horror. As a screeching utterance of metal came to her ears. It was moments after she had struck with Nameless, and Veridian had fallen - the two might as well been sychronised. Delath beneath her continued his twist of dancing steps to avoid plummetting down directly. She needed to leap from her seat on his back as instinct took over and she recognised that sound, or what it might mean. As her form took her into the air she tried, with a sick feeling entering her chest, to tug Nameless from its new sheath, but it was as she feared. As the noise had predicted, had meant.

He, the coal-skinned villain, had twisted the end of her beloved sword so that it was lodged right into the back of him.

Sucking in her breath, Philomel kept a hold of the sword, and swung up her hooves to plant them on his back - right there and not caring about the improbability of the angle, or the pain it might cause him. She aimed to use the effort to drag Nameless from him, bent as it was or not, as Delath spiralled away. Determination swept through her - these defiantly were the last moments of the battle, after all - and she prepared to make it agonising. Amused, she grinned to herself as she called for Mao, that last vestibule of useless power that she had into existence ...

"I am William," the man said as her hooves met his mid-back.

"And I am Philomel fu-"

Boom ...

Utter, utter darkness, as fire and energy ripped her form into a million pieces. The explosion slammed like her own headbutt into her, born from William - it was his name, after all he had annouced. With the ability to cause volcanoes to errupt the power poured from him, instantly burning the hair from the faun's whole body and the scales from Delath's skin. Both of them had not expected it, and it caused instant death. Hands no longer grasped around Namless, instead it hung in William's body as a memory of another time. Neither did a dragon haunt the dancing stones, but rather had gone. Only a hulking char of his bones and frame stood, but that would soon fall into the abyss.

Silence fell. And it seemed William had won.

That was, excepting for a tiny form sitting there, still and confused on the last remaining pillar. A small white and brown rabbit, ears erect, and looking honestly surprised. Summoned out of nowhere, brought to her mistress' attention, just far enough away from the fire and brimstone to be there, a reminent.

Tilting her head she gazed at the single being now left in the field, other than herself. Brave eyes blinked, nose twitched, and then she did as rabbits do best.

She sniffed.