Xino struck. He struck again. Each strike defined lines of brilliant light that blocked off the Witherlord's retreat. Each strike caused the Witherlord to shrink back further, his power dissipating.

"That is for Trewee," Xino snarled. With a mighty swing, a beam of light shot from the spear, pinning the Witherlord in place. The dark figure gasped, black smoke rising up from the place where the light pierced his chest and instantly evaporating. He cringed backwards as Xino stepped towards him, spear aglow.

"Any last words?" asked the last luxsprite, readying the final blow.

The Witherlord looked up at Xino, coughing weakly. And then he smiled.

"It's funny," he said. "Just when you think you have it all... you lose it."

Xino frowned, pausing. Those words... they sounded familiar, for some reason. Had he heard them before...?

Deep within him, something clicked. And Xino remembered.

"It's funny," the Witherlord had said, as his power flowed from the cage into Xino. "Just when you think you have it all... you lose it." And then Xino had been lost in a sea of fractured, chaotic light.

He'd watched in horror as the Witherlord escaped, destroying the Core Crystal- and with it, any hope for the luxsprites to withstand the withergeists.

And it had all been Xino's fault.