Iseldis slipped in and out of consciousness, the world spinning violently every time she managed to open her eyes. The witch's magic was intense in the pain that it caused, heavy in the toll that it took on her stamina, but in a fortunate twist of fate, it didn't defeat her utterly, and when she felt some semblance of stability returning to her senses, she felt some hope along with it. The worst of it was over, and the rest was something she could fight through, if only barely.

From the ground she reached blindly for her staff, unable to find it, and she soon gave up the effort. She was going to need more than the staff to win. Slowly but surely she rose, as though she'd joined the ranks of the shambling draugr they'd fought through the whole way. But by blocking everything else out, Iseldis was able to find a sort of center; she slowed her breathing, relaxed her body and her stance, felt the comforting touch of magic at her fingertips. She still had power to call upon.

The witch faced Roland, a few long strides away from Iseldis. The priestess had never been perfect in any part of her training, but she knew she'd need to be perfect now. One mistake would lead to her end, and probably Roland's alongside her. She wasn't about to let that happen.

Iseldis moved forward smoothly, calling into her hand a long, thin sword of light, elegant and deadly. The magic wasn't silent, and even over Roland's battle roar the witch heard it. Iseldis anticipated her opponent's response, sidestepping to cleanly avoid the stabbing attack from one of the few spider legs the witch had left. She saw a brief moment of uncertainty in the witch's eyes when they were face to face, right before Iseldis plunged the light blade into her gut.

It pierced cleanly through, burning as it went, with a magical fire that caught all through the witch's body, the cleansing force consuming with an almost alarming hunger. The witch shrieked in agony, twisting and contorting and swinging blindly with her clawed fingers at Iseldis. She ducked the swipe nearest to her throat, pulling her blade free. With one motion she spun about and sliced for the witch's neck, lopping her head off. The charred body fell to the floor, and suddenly the room was silent once more, all save for the sounds of their exhausted breathing.

No sooner had she finished it than the sword vanished from her hands into thin air, and a tidal wave of exhaustion washed over Iseldis. She wobbled, wavered, and then collapsed to her knees in front of her kill, needing to plant her hands on the dusty floor to keep herself from falling further.

"It's... it's over."
[@POOHEAD189]