Phinehas walked home, tired after yet another depressing evening at Kada's, surrounded by memories of old friends. He was beginning to think perhaps it would be better if he spent less time there, as each evening that none of his old friends showed up was one more step towards absolute withdrawal. Of course, there wasn't really any place to go, and he needed a break from his constant studies.
These were the thoughts going through his head as he shuffled along to the Ashes guildhouse. Once there, he reached into his robes and pulled out an old, rusted key. With some difficulty he managed to unlock the front door and step inside, panting and leaning heavily on his cane. He paused there, looking around him, surrounded by memories of his friends. He sighed, thinking that he was a relic of days gone past, even at his young age.
Suddenly, his face contorted with pain as the magic wracked his body again and again. He stiffened at the agony, as he had so many times, and quickly rustled around in his robes for the vial of purple liquid that brought the pain back down to a bearable level. He pulled the stopper out of the vial and quickly put a few drops on his tongue, sighing in anticipation of the relief to come.
The relief never came, however. The pain grew and grew, and Phinehas began to gasp in agony. Suddenly, he realized that this was it. His race against the magic in his body was over. He had lost. He hadn't found a way to divert it in time, and now it was going to kill him. He stumbled forward in blind agony as another surge of pain hit him. He smiled slightly, thinking how ironic it was that the very thing that set him apart from the other wizards, the very thing that promised him immortality should be the thing to kill him. His blessing and his curse, he thought as he collapsed to the floor, dead.