Final+Battle+in+the+Forum

When the gate closed behind Gerion, Rey wiped his eyes, briefly pinching the bridge of his nose. He regretted not being able to say goodbye to the rest of his Alliance, but he also knew that they would have tried to talk him out of what he was doing. His place was here, he could not afford to be dissuaded. It had been bad enough saying goodbye to the Shadow.

Rey knew that he had some little time before the first assault, so he sat down at the table, pen and paper to hand. He began writing...//I, Reynaldo Vulponi, being of sound mind and body//...it did not take him long to jot down his instructions. He read it over and then added a hasty post-script. He hoped that the Shadow...no, that was wrong...he hoped that //Gerion// would accept what he was offering. If not, well, Rey would have to try to convince him. Rey blotted the paper and addressed it to Gerion, placing it on the table. If the younger man survived, he would see it.

Rey could feel pressure beginning to build around the gates. He extended his senses and a picture formed in his mind of what waited outside. When he saw what was coming toward him, he laughed out loud. An army of skeletons, ghouls and revenants marched toward the gates.

"Really? You think to use the undead against me? Don't you remember what happened last time?" he asked incredulously.

He stayed inside the Forum, stretching out his arms and senses. Purple coronas flared around each gate and the undead stopped. Rey began his chant, promising peace and respite. Some undead were instantly reduced to dust while others turned and went back they way they had come, refusing to fight one who was their master. Some stayed, taking up guarding positions in front of the gates. And the first wave was done. Rey smiled tightly. This was just a gambit, an opening move. He knew that this was merely a test. He waited patiently for the second wave to begin.

The next wave soon appeared, human warriors making an assault on the gates. The undead stationed outside the gates took out many of them, but soon they were overwhelmed by the numbers and the undead fell. Rey gestured toward the ghostly figures of Adamo, Celia, Sinopa and the others. They nodded, Celia pausing to whisper, "I love you." Then the spectral forms moved out through the gates and the warriors fell like sheaves of wheat before the combined might of the shadow-masters and Foxes. Soon, there were none left, and Rey had hardly expended any energy.

"Please," he said, laughing again, voice dripping with disdain. "You are just toying with me. Send me a real challenge!"

He was taunting Glacies, and Rey knew how dangerous it was. He wanted his enemy to be distracted and rattled. That would give his Alliance more of a chance to complete their mission. Rey knew what would come next. The mages, and then his fall. Now that it was upon him, he did not want to go. He had so much more he wanted to do. So much more he wanted to say. But the choice was no longer in his hands. This was the beginning of the end for him. But then again, he thought, every ending was also a beginning. And he smiled.

The Fox leapt up on the table and spread his arms wide, singing. The music flowed out of him and the magic responded. He was soon encased in a large globe of shadow, colors flowing around the outside, changing from pale sky blue to fiery red, deep forest green merging with seafoam, inky black swirling with brilliant white.

Outside the gates, hundreds of mages converged, sending all their combined power against the portals. At first, the spells glanced harmlessly against the doors, but Glacies added his power from Fyriah and eventually, inexorably, the pressure on all the gates rose. Rey began sweating, panting slightly against the strain. He could not hold them off much longer without doing something extreme. He knew the time had come.

He reached inward and felt his magic, a deep calm pool in his very core. For the first time in his life, he took all restraints off and unleashed his full potential. It poured from him in streams, in cascades, in torrents, like a swollen river after the spring rains. He released everything he had to give, to the last full measure of his soul. And then, he added more. He offered up all the grief, all the sorrow, all the loss, all the love, all the joy, all the beauty that he had ever known, //would// ever know, to the magic. Rejoicing in his wholehearted offering, the magic accepted it, merged with it, and transmuted it into more power than Rey had ever known.

It coursed through him, intoxicating him, and he laughed as it leapt out of him as a horse springs from the gate. Rey was no longer singing, but the music and magic still reverberated in the room, resonating through him, every cell vibrating in tune to the sound. His eyes glowed gold while purple flames began to flicker around his body. Arms still wide and head flung back, Rey felt the edges of his body begin to blur, fray and tatter. He was becoming translucent, insubstantial like gossamer fabric. As the magic boiled up around him, spilling into and filling the whole room, he ceased to be the Fox, ceased to be Rey, ceased to be merely human and became something awful and terrible and beautiful all at once. There was no separation between himself and the magic now; they were merged together as one and it welcomed him gladly, //joyfully//, as a willing sacrifice. His gold ring clattered to the table, unnoticed.

But although his physical form was gone, he was still aware. With a thought, Rey closed the gates, shutting them forever; the portals were gone, as if they had never existed. The gems marking each region exploded in a cacophony of light and sound. At that moment of perfect awareness, he felt another presence in the Forum with him; a man, weeping and pleading for help. Rey's compassion guided the magic, freeing the trapped soul. "Go," the magic sang with Rey's honeyed voice. "Find your other half. Find completion." The newly released soul fled to Fyriah, merging Arden and Glacies once more.

Then, there was only silence, broken by the soft, steady ticking of a clock; the beating heart of the Forum. But Reynaldo Vulponi, the last Fox, was no more.