It was quick, like he knew it would be. Maybe Dorian was angry, but he liked to think that he mage might be able to summon a small mercy, even for him. Even if it was undeserved.

He could have checked his speed, he could have done a few things to avoid the shards of ice springing from the ground between him and Dorian.

But he didn't.

He heard the crunch of his armor as the ice shot through it. His momentum made sure it went deep and it knocked the air out of him. He had never spent a long time thinking about death; there was no point in obsessing over something that was inevitable. All things died. It was not for him to choose when and where.

The great sword fell from his hand. Hissrad pressed his palms to the ice for a moment like he might try to push off of it, but he knew that was futile. He would die here, far from home, supposedly in service to the Qun.

Blood started to fill his mouth; he tried to control his breathing as his body resisted the reality. He was going to die - he was dying. Something faster might have been better, but this way he could see Dorian's face.

"Kadan," he echoed quietly, without venom and without anger. Only tenderness, and quiet grief.