The depths faded from green to black as he dove, the panoply shifting imperceptibly from his domain to mine.
He was used to being the darkness, you see.
This was his fourth arrogance.
As his lungs emptied his form shifted more into the smoke he used for flight. Three dimensions was something he knew more of than most, but flying over your enemies as ants or freely through their constricted brooms is quite different from immersing yourself in the depths.
He came at me from above, as he always did.
This was his fifth arrogance.
His mouth was smoke; this may have saved me.
I felt pain; tentacles fell, bled, burst, boiled. The fire began to itch at me, and I began to move.
His eyes solidify to look at the pieces of me drifting into the depths below. They squint, they do not see enough.
And then he sees more.
I come from every direction.
He had forgotten my size.
His sixth arrogance.
He sees above, slashes.
To the left, fire.
To the right, blood.
I feel each of the die, parts of me failing. He knows my pain; the pain of pieces of yourself departing.
He has not known empathy in so long.
When he hears my cry, he hesitates.
This is his final mistake.
A thousand lashes to disperse him
A thousand more to drag him down
A dozen tentacles disburse them
This man, this snake, who cannot drown.
I tie him down, within the depths
as last of all his magic fades
I know this wizard bypassed death
I build a prison higher grade
I breath him in
his dirty soot
I jet him out in ink.
With no form in which to take root
he's stuck inside the drink.