William wasn’t sure if the light from the magma explosion had faded or not. The deafening eruption of noise had been swept away by the arena’s winds but somehow he still couldn’t see anything. It took him a moment to process that the wind whipping around him wasn’t the magic of the arena but purely the sensation of plummeting helplessly. That the winds hadn’t snatched him up to smash against a pillar told William that he was no longer flying. That in turn meant the goat had either dropped him or died in his blast. Neither option gave him much hope as he struggled to reach out for anything to grab onto.
But William had pushed his luck too far. The fight had taken too long and had ranged too far over the Dancing Stones. While there were untouched pillars littering the arena, none of them were near enough to where we was falling to offer any support. William fell, struggling vainly to find purchace until the very end when the abyss claimed him.
***
William came to inside a small recovery room inside the Citadel’s medical wing. As always, his gear had been retrieved and returned to him and his wounds had been fully treated. The fight had been interesting, even if it had been a far throw from what he’d been expecting when he’d requested the Dancing Stones arena from the Ai’Brone. Still, the nature of his opponents intrigued him. It was rare for him to come across others that were as talented as him anymore. Too many heroes and villains having succumbed to the ravages of time and chaos. He’d have to keep these two in mind should their paths cross again. It only took a moment to flag down a passing monk and to get the information that he was looking for.
“Shinsou Vann Osiris and Philomel van der Aart,” he growled, a smile of eager satisfaction flitting playfully across his face. “We’ll meet again, I promise.”
