Sensing the biting frost on his face, Losandel was drowning in desperation.
He didn't know why the human Mage was attacking him, but the man was obviously not a friend.
He even thought of suicide, but his limbs had each been restrained by a blue Hand of Magic, making it impossible for him to struggle.
He could only manage to raise his head and watch the human Mage approach him from the dark.
He was both angry and frightened.
What would the man do? Torture him, or kill him instantly?
Losandel had always been fond of moonlight. He suddenly found it romantic to be killed on such a night when the moon was shining brilliantly.
It was every elf's wish to die next to their favorite things.
That way, their withering would be beautiful too.
