An old man walks back into the library. He hears footsteps behind him. What a pleasant chat that was and how nice it was to be able to use magic to help someone one last time. It truly will be the last time now. He wanders back to the attic where he spent the evening with his old friend, now likely safe and sound in a far away place. Bottles are strewn across the floor, a cacophony of years and flavours, all emptied on this final day. There is now nothing for him here, nothing that might help pass the time or ease the guilt and sorrow. Yet he can't help but return to this place. He sits down before a window and waits.

At some point the man forgets. He forgets how he had caused the demise of the Sanctuary, he forgets why he feels such guilt, but the guilt itself remains. He failed to protect the Sanctuary, so he must remain to fall with it.

Soon skittering can be heard across the city. The crumbling of buildings approaches. the man sits passive, still, only staring out of the window at the rising sun of dawn. The floor beneath him shakes, the ceiling crumbles, and down the man goes. The very last sight he sees is that of rubble and debris - his home a Sanctuary no more.

And so falls an Archmage.