"I'll bring your heads to Master Wizeman myself!"

Reala calls down the five pointed star. This sort of spell comes with great personal cost should he fail, even worse than the damage he sustained last time. He knows that failure means death, but he is sick of being humiliated, sick of the chase, and especially sick of seeing that arrogant, condescending, pitying, saccharine smile playing at the lips of someone he once called partner.

He cries out when the first bomb strikes him, but it doesn't hurt as much as it should have. Flames engulf his body; he can feel the warmth and the swell and burst of blisters, but his spell shields him from the majority of the pain. He can keep fighting.

The first point fades.

Reala knows the Visitors are watching. He thinks of their condescension if they see him fail; he thinks of their boundless despair should they see their hero fall. One of the bombs he throws makes contact, and though NiGHTS is too far away to hear react, he can hear the Visitors outcry of concern. He finds there to be a special joy in the pain of these particular Visitors.

When NiGHTS catches his foot with a bomb and he is again swallowed by flame, he can hear them cheer.

The second point fades.

Reala throws a bomb, but it is caught and returned. It makes impact.

The third point fades.

The battle is halfway over. Reala has caught NiGHTS with another bomb, but they emerge undeterred from the flames. The determination on their face mirrors his own; their stubbornness has always been such an endearing and aggravating trait. As he turns away to grab another bomb, he is struck in the back.

The fourth point fades.

Reala's chest heaves for breath; the warmth from his burns sticks to him, threatening to engulf him once the effects of his spell fade. NiGHTS is smiling; NiGHTS is confident; NiGHTS knows he cannot last much longer. Everyone can so clearly see he cannot last much longer. He is not afraid to die; though the memory is hazy, he remembers that he has done it once before, at this maren's hands, no less. He will gladly accept his death if he can take NIGHTS down with him.

They throw a bomb, but he catches and returns it. They dodge, and he thinks he can see them shouting something as they appear around its other side. He's too far away to hear, but he's sure it's a taunt. He flies for another bomb, dodging one of NiGHTS's throws, and this second throw makes contact. He grins; they can't last much longer either, but he takes a few beats too long to savor the hit. The bomb from his first throw this round completes its circuit around the playing field and detonates when it hits him. He is blindsided, and he cries out.

The fifth point fades.

The stamina his spell lent him leaves his body. Reala sees NiGHTS watch him as he begins to fall. The star vanishes. They turn away.

He falls, and the searing pain of his burns slams his senses; he is falling, he is fire, he is aflame, and he screams. He remembers experiencing this once before, but the fall was much shorter. Tears of frustration escape the corners of his eyes, and he curses this place, curses NiGHTS, curses the Visitors, and asks himself how he hasn't hit the goddamn ground yet.

He hits the goddamn ground.