Antonius gasped for air as fire filled his lungs, the hands which he once trusted to cast magic now flailed helplessly against the sand, clutching at it desperately, for something, anything. He willed his arcane magic to come to him, his fingers wriggling to start a simple spell, any spell, just to feel the pang of magic against his skin. He coughed, black ash escaped from his mouth as his vision was encased in nothing but green brimstone and fire. He felt his eyes burning, his body seething with malignant demonic fire, the innate feeling and desire for magic. Looking at the sky urgently, he hoped for something, anything. Then it hit him, the book, of course! The tome which had granted him so much power thus far! He reached around, his arm barely cooperating with his movements as he patted his side for the demonic entity, but it was gone. He felt a sudden sensation of cold, his vision now going dark, and black. He had lost, it was over, he'd been beaten down in the brimstone and fire of his own ambition. Now he was feeling it, every last icy cold and demonic burning sensation across his skin as he felt his mind torn from him.