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Visante was slowly beginning to lose his calm hold of his emotions. He couldn't recall a moment in his life where he had felt so powerless, so helpless to change his fate. At this point, struggling to get up off the floor, did he feel so sure that he was sure to die. The voices, the whispering, persisted, always trying to overtake him, to drive him fully into madness. And as he stood limply, the temptation to submit was great. It was as if the voices would take him away from all this: the fear, the anxiety of dying. He could rid this mantle of living, of struggle and let his mind be overtaken. So sweet was the idea that he allowed himself to be pushed to the brink...
Then he opened his eyes, remembered his cause, his purpose in life. Power was not gained without struggle, without pain and loss. If one did not put forth effort, one would not get power in return. Such a gift was not given freely; there was always a price. And this, if he could survive this, surely it would lead to an even greater power than he possessed now. Gritting his teeth, he fought back mentally against the whispers, the ramblings of the Dragon Lord, shutting it out from his mind. For the moment at least, he had peace. But the issue of the Dragon Lord, blasting away their defenses with ease, was still an imminent concern. Visante stared upwards, and felt the leftover arcane energy in the air. There was so much of it, more magical energy than any one of them could produce.
Visante turned to the younger spellcasters and wizards still standing, their eyes lost of hope, barking out orders, "It's not over yet! I have a plan, but I need you to buy me time! Don't worry about attacking, it's no good. Just work on putting up as many barriers as possible!" With that, he focused on the magical crackling that filled the air along with the whispering, reaching out and starting to harness it. The energy formed in front of him, quickly condensing, and grew quickly in power and size. Visante grit his teeth, finding that the more he harnessed, the louder the voices grew, gnawing at his focus. But he needed this energy, every bit he could handle, to have a chance.