The Squire
The wizard stood on the rocky shore of Nalgondell, unleashing a blizzard of attacks upon the mighty black dragon.
"Fool! You know you'll never stop me! You will be the last wizard!" roared the dragon, slashing at the wizard, who accepted the blow and slammed against a rock, slumped and groaning.
The wizard, doing his best to feign weakness, staggered over to the dragon. He had seen what would happen. No matter how hard he avoided it, the dragon would kill him eventually. Best to let it happen now. In the future he saw, hundreds of years later, there would be two squires who would bring back the stolen magic.
"You will end now!" the dragon charged, screaming. The wizard, smiling inwardly, relished the spark of hope that was left within him and reciprocated the scream.
With a blast, the dragon feinted and snatched the wizard, crushing him until all that was left was a crunched-up pile of bones and flesh.
"Pathetic," hissed the dragon, rearing and flapping towards west-- towards the setting sun.
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