Isaiah can barely hear the warning bell and the screams of Haven’s citizens as he dodges a black lightning bolt. He swiftly responds with a barrage of silver stakes that sail wide of their target. The old caster isn’t aware of anyone else on the battlefield until a wave of intense heat from Nyx’s fire blast warms the soles of his feet. The red-scaled caster takes a risky second to see who has come to help protect the city. He quickly disperses a barrage of acid claws with a wall of sound before a blurred form on his right distracts him. For a brief instance, Isaiah can see Talos carving through the undead army. He looks the other way to see a pile of bodies starting to form on Kalam’s side of the battlefield. He can only assume that Luke is responsible. The undead army has already begun to turn into a chaotic mob as more and more of the monsters fall.

“It would appear that my allies have arrived, brother. Now, I can concentrate on you,” Isaiah states with a sad smile.

“Their actions are of little interest to me,” Kalam claims.

“You could never admit when you were worried,” Isaiah sighs disappointingly.

“They can destroy as many of my minions as they want,” the vampire says with a sneer. “I can always make more.”

A spiral of ice erupts from Isaiah’s palm and violently collides with a shield of fire that appears around Kalam. The necrocaster is pushed back a few feet by the impact before he swerves to the side. Two trees are covered in ice as Kalam fires back with a bubbling ball of black energy. Isaiah stands his ground while he casts a solid ball of light at Kalam’s spell. Again the opposing energies explode in the air above the undead swarm and the brothers are left gasping for air. A drop of blood falls from Kalam’s brow while Isaiah pats his cheeks with the sleeve of his robe.

“I thought you had gone soft after all these years,” Isaiah coughs.

“Don’t mistake my isolation for hiding. I was practicing and perfecting my skills for this day,” Kalam announces hungrily.

“I wish you would simply forget about me,” Isaiah admits.

“How could I forget the one who betrayed me?” Kalam screeches in rage. He opens his mouth and spits a glistening beam of violet energy at his brother.

“Give it up, brother,” Isaiah snaps. He deflects the spell into the air with a shield of wind. The sky above the battlefield turns a putrid purple and the clouds begin to melt away.

Kalam stares at his brother, his eyes widening from rage. “You were the one who sent me to that vampire!”

“What are you talking about?” Isaiah asks, refusing to let Kalam’s fury intimidate him.

“One hundred and thirty nine years ago,” Kalam growls, his fangs growing with hunger. “I followed the map, which you left for me to find. It led me into the waiting fangs of a vampire and forced me to live in the shadows for eternity. It took me years to master my new powers and learn how to use my magic again. You can never imagine the pain and frustration that you caused me.”

“You’re a fool. That map was left on my desk for me to use,” Isaiah argues, trying not to laugh. “I was going to hunt down and destroy the vampire. You invaded my private study out of jealousy and greed. The only person who you can blame for your downfall is yourself.”

“The only thing I am guilty of is staying in your shadow for too long!” exclaims the white-scaled necrocaster.

“An angry caster is a careless one,” Isaiah mockingly whispers.

Kalam chuckles with an evil sneer. “That was the first and only lesson that our father ever taught us. Is this why you refuse to show me any emotions?”

“I release the proper amount of emotion depending on the situation. It is an easier life than one of rage masked by false civility,” Isaiah states with a toothy grin. “By the way, I think you’re water ghasts are done.”

Kalam looks at the battle below him to see that over half of his undead army has been torn to shreds, burned beyond use, or pierced in the head with an arrow. The only dead water ghast that he can see is the one that is fastened to a tree by an arrow. He is confused about Isaiah’s taunt until he notices Nyx with her hand in the river. A thick steam is rising from the bubbling surface of the water, which has lowered several inches below the initial riverbank. There are a few dark forms in the water and it takes the necrocaster a few seconds to recognize the bloated, disfigured water ghasts. All of them have been instantly boiled before they could escape the river.

“I’m impressed,” Kalam admits in shock. He raises a rigid claw toward Nyx, but quickly lets his arm drop to his side.

“Are you scared of her?” Isaiah curiously inquires.

A sickening grin crosses the vampire’s face. “I’m simply not in the mood to face two casters at once.”

“For an angry, murderous brother, you sure are talkative,” Isaiah mentions, a worm of worry slipping into his heart.

“We are still brothers,” Kalam admits with a shrug. “My hate for you is rivaled only by my love at seeing your face again.”

Isaiah snorts and releases a puff of smoke from his nostrils. “You never did make any sense, brother.”

An extra pair of arms burst out of Kalam’s chest and all four limbs begin a bombardment of fireballs. The incoming spells curve slightly through the air as they whistle towards Isaiah. The first of the fireballs singes the side of Isaiah’s head before he can freeze the remaining spells with a wave of icy wind. The freezing spell has barely dissipated into the air before the extra limbs of Kalam erupt from below. Isaiah is hit in the jaw by the disembodied right arm, which sends the caster reeling back in the air. He is about to cast a spell at the flying arm when the left arm strikes him in the back. Isaiah struggles to track the arms, but they move so fast that they continuously vanish into the mass of bodies littering the battlefield below him. A moment after Isaiah loses track of the arms, he feels a tight grip on his tail. Before he can get free, he is slammed against the ground.

“Having some trouble?” Kalam cackles gleefully.

“I’m simply rusty,” Isaiah groans, struggling to his feet. He can feel a push of air hit his face before he ducks away from the flying arms.

Kalam yawns and pats his mouth. “Excuses are not your style, brother.”

Isaiah shakes the entire clearing when he roars and digs his feet into the corpse-covered ground. The flying arms streak toward the old caster and collide with a loud slam that sounds like a charging bull hitting an iron wall. Kalam stops grinning when he sees Isaiah has caught the arms by the wrists. Isaiah leaves deep gouges in the ground while the arms push him back. With another roar, Isaiah shatters their wrists and tosses the useless limbs to the ground.

“Is that your best?” Isaiah snarls, turning back to Kalam.

“No,” the vampire replies, “but I believe my distractions have worked.”

A cold hand of terror grips Isaiah’s heart when he realizes that he has been tricked. “Distractions?”

“Did you really think that I wanted to talk so much with you?” Kalam asks, his voice dripping with hatred. “I needed the time to finish casting my spell. I made it special for you.”

“You were always the dramatic one,” Isaiah mutters under his breath.

The forest behind Kalam explodes into a shower of splinters when an orb of magical energy rises from the ground. A few distorted images of Isaiah can be seen in the putrid surface of the black orb. With an evil grin, Kalam stretches his arms behind him until they are inches away from the immense spell. He moves the throbbing orb above his head and puts more of his energy into it. Everyone in the clearing and in the nearby town can feel their blood freeze as they watch the orb abruptly grow to the size of a two-story house.

Isaiah gathers his energy while he analyzes the amazing spell before him. He hates to admit that he is impressed with his brother’s spell. He marvels at the highly charged spell that he could not sense by an enemy until it was completed. Isaiah guesses that all of Kalam’s previous spells were distractions while his tail made the subtle motions for the big spell. The strain of preparing such a large spell, while hurling minor spells, must have been so intense that a vampire could survive the casting. The more Isaiah thinks about the spell, the more he realizes that he only knows one spell that can stop it. A spell so powerful that he is not even sure he can survive casting it with such little preparation.

Kalam announces, “Now, to destroy that which has threatened me.”

Isaiah launches himself into the air and immediately summons an orb of blinding, white magic that barely matches the size of Kalam’s orb of darkness. Both of the casters are in the midst of hurling their spells when a metallic object hits Kalam in the shoulder. The vampire stares at the thin hilt of a stiletto sticking out of his shoulder while his spell speeds from his palms. At the same time, Isaiah hurls his counter spell toward the dark orb. Both casters watch in shock when the images in the black orb change from those of Isaiah casting his spells to Luke hurling his stiletto at Kalam. The seconds feel like hours as the opposing spells swerve away from Isaiah and toward the battlefield below.

Isaiah collapses to the ground where he gets a clear view of the confused and worried Luke. The forest tracker is petrified as the spells race toward him. The fireskin’s heart sinks even more when he sees Nyx rush toward Luke in an attempt to tackle him to safety. Instead, Luke catches Nyx by the shoulders and hurls her away from him where Isaiah is unable to see if she is safe or still in the range of the black orb. The last thing that Isaiah sees before passing out is Luke being enveloped in a towering pillar of swirling light and shadow.