A hand crossed over her hands on her chest.
"Worry not dear friend," Gillfidor assured the mage. "I would be there to welcome her and give her the news."
Her face relaxed with faint lines of wrinkles becoming more visible around her eyes. She was pleased with his words. With a last deep sigh, she let go of her spirit, closing her eyes to the burning sun in the desert.
"No," Umbra sobbed watching the mage go before breaking down completely.
There was nothing more to be said and nothing more to be done. Joan, the dark mage of the dark castle, was dead.
The Primordials stood to their feet and in respect had a final bow to the dead mage.
Her legacies would live on, forever.
***
The five of them stood over the mage's body in solemn silence. The only sound being the whoosh of the desert breeze which blew violently against the hot sand.
