Her hooves found his chest and neck, striking in quick succession. Despite the pain and the slight clamping down on his wind-pipe, Virgil had the distinct feeling that this attack was somehow lesser than her previous one. Fear filled him, and briefly he wondered if this was the first step towards her recanting on her promise. First comes hesitation, and then abandonment? Virgil felt something steel inside of himself, wrapped and warped in sickly dread. He had come so far, had done so much. Surely she wouldn't abandon him now?

And yet as her body pivoted away from him, and his green-blue eyes skirted over the landscape, he realized just how close to hell he was. If she gave up on him now, he would charge into the sea and damn himself, all the while damning her. His fate was sealed one way or another, and only Isopia would decide if his soul ascended to heaven, or if it would fall to hell.

As the fire and lava flows of the heart churned and seemed to bubble brighter in the dimming light, Virgil wondered if he didn't already know the answer.

Wheezing slightly as breath returned to his lungs, his ears caught the words she tossed his way. "I told you that this was to be a fair and genuine fight. I cannot willingly release life from my body, no matter how much I might wish it." His voice was like sandpaper beneath a stone; jagged and heavy.  

Now that his shoulder and neck were ringing with pain, he decided to take advantage of the demon-soldier at his side, and take a momentary respite. Unwavering, the demonic shape moved forward brandishing the sword. It held the bone-blade upwards, both 'hands' curled around its hilt. Though there were no proper eyes with which it could see, it did somehow stare towards Isopia before lunging. The blade of the sword came down, aiming for her right shoulder, as that was the closest. It would not be a fatal blow, but perhaps it would temper Isopia's step enough such that she would be forced to remain close. And in close proximity to Virgil, perhaps the life-ending blow that he sought would come to him faster. 

Breathing heavily, for even he was not a young man any longer, Virgil limped forward. His head was held high, still proud even as pain continued to distort his face and haunt his movements.  The ghostly apparition did not retreat after attempting to attack Isopia. It was a creature of magic and for all Virgil knew, could not be harmed, and so the stallion gave no command that it should alter its course.