Estinien leaps at him, but by the time he manages to haul his staggering body into motion, the barrier is already up. He collides with it, smearing blood across its shimmering surface, dragging his claws down its side.

He doesn't need the weapon, something says in the back of his mind. He doesn't need it anymore. It's not about the casket, it's more than that, it's about finding some shred of purpose in this strange world. The one thing he's supposed to be able to do, and is failing at regardless.

He roars again, vibrations rippling through the earth beneath their feet, clawing at the mind - but it's weaker, now. He's getting weaker, and it can't stop it, and the vulnerability of it only serves to stoke his anger. His strength fades, but his spirit demands for him to press on.

"I would sooner die than allow Thorne to drink of the power it craves."

His voice is rasping and wet with the blood in his throat - but yet, there seems to be a deeper, more ancient presence behind it.