"So you think this is a game, Rynd? Hurting other elves is only a game?" Cador exclaimed incredulously. Cador now understood the fear he had felt before as it came back tenfold. He stared at that bright flame as if it were the only thing that existed. He wanted to back away but his feet wouldn't move. Rynd stood, arm outstretched, his hand only a few feet from Cador's face. If it had been possible, he would have said that the air had grown more quiet than before, and it indeed seemed to. Even the stream had ceased its quiet rushing sound and ran beside the bank silently. Rynd ignored his words.

"I'll give you one last chance, Cador," Rynd began, "and one chance only. Take it back." Cador knew this was his chance to save himself. He knew that he should take it, that his words had been spoken in anger, though he knew that Rynd deserved it. He also knew that if he took it back, he would become Rynd's tool, just another piece in his so-called game, a tool that Rynd knew he would order to do whatever he wanted done because he would knew how to compel him to do his bidding. Dying would give him a better life than to live as a shell under Rynd's control. He made his decision.

"No," he whispered. There. He had done it. He had stood by his choice, accepting the consequences. His muscles tensed up as he prepared to move quickly when Rynd began his attack. Rynd actually smiled when he heard this, and then his face turned to a look of pure fury.

"Take that!" he screamed, and with a grunt he swung his arm back and forward, throwing the ball of fire into Cador's face.

Cador could not move fast enough, and he screamed as the fire hit him, searing through his skin like so much butter. He raised his hands to his face to try to bat it away but it quickly caught on his ghostly white skin and now burned away his hands. The skin quickly disappeared and flakes of it floated away in the wind. If he had been able to look at his hands, he would have seen his bones, black and red in the flames, poking through his burnt flesh. His scream went on and on as he batted at the flames. He tried to moce, but his feet didn't obey him and stayed stuck to the ground. He could hear a cold, cruel laugh coming from Rynd in front of him, almost lost in his agonized yell.

After only second, but what seemed like years to him, his feet moved and he stumbled forward. His mind was growing fuzzy and dark. With the last of his conciousness, he felt himself trip over a stone and put out his hands to break his fall. His hands hit the ground with a deafeing splash and instantly became icy cold. His face soon followed and submerged itself in the water of the stream. Then the world went black and he could see no more.