The mage barely paid any attention to anything beyond waiting for the room to clear out and keeping his golem form from literally melting on the spot, distance from his physical form, magical limitations and the house fighting tooth and nail taking a toll he would be wise to no longer continue. He felt his enchantment fail on at least one person to leave, but there was little he could do about that. All he could think about was how everyone was so damn slow about leaving.

It was finally down to one he could see, even as everything behind his eyes rapidly melted, careful humanoid golem creation turning into goo on the insides while presenting a relatively normal external appearance. He would have told Isabeau something along the lines of "shut up and leave it" if he hadn't been more focused on keeping the weight of the entire house together, an effort that was taxing to his spiritual energy even as he burned his way through the reserves of the talisman. He let go as Isabeau left, removing himself from the golem as all went black.

There was what seemed to be a great roar as the cottage tore itself apart, windows shattering outwards and rooms flattening in on themselves as the structure exacted revenge on the mage that had kept it together for so long. While the magic of the cottage was still very much embedded in the new ruin, the magic of the mage was not; all that remained of his presence was the distinct odd feeling of the yellow talisman now buried within the wreckage.

[hider=At the cave...]

He came to with a deep gasp, falling off a carefully arranged bed-like structure in his brown Magi robes engraved in runes that were now smoking hot. Positioned not far from the cave entry, he crawled out to lay in the rain just by a steep ledge for a short while, slowly bringing his thoughts together. House... falling apart as he disconnected from the golem. The sage... probably survived. The group she had assembled, out - as to why he provided a quick exit for them, he wasn't sure. He knew his magic had failed to give one a smooth landing, but he doubted they weren't well off. 

He was probably dead. The rain offered no suggestions as he decided he had best change that perspective. He was greatly weakened, having used his magic over a distance farther than he should have. Though his body had done nothing physical, every bone ached as he picked himself off the rocks, caring not for the rain that had now soaked him entirely. Even with the rain he was toasty inside the robes.

The mage walked down the many rocks towards the village that lay a good distance ahead. Under normal circumstances he could be there in a few minutes, but he figured it would take a little longer than that. Of the plans he could make on the spot, he didn't count overexertion as one of them. He would probably try and communicate with the Order at some point. All in due time; he was already well off the beaten path in that regard.
[/hider]