The barrier shattered.
Jaegar's combined assault struck Wi'thas directly, engulfing the blood elf in a maelstrom of fire, lightning, chaos, and divine energy.
When the magical storm finally subsided, when the last echoes of power faded and the clearing fell silent except for the crackling of burning wood, Jaegar collapsed to his knees.
He was utterly drained, his magical reserves depleted to dangerous levels.
Every breath felt like inhaling knives.
Through the smoke and settling debris, he could see Wi'thas's form. The blood elf was down, his robes charred and torn, his pale skin marked with burns and scorch marks. But he was still alive. Still conscious.
Still smiling that broken smile.
"Worth it," Wi'thas rasped, blood, actual red blood, not the pale ichor of his kind, dripping from his lips.
"Absolutely worth it. I'll remember this, little spark. When we meet again, I'll remember what you made me feel."
Then the blood elf dissolved into mist and was gone, Just like that.
