The Bay was silent when the companions and the army arrived. Only the gently splashing of the waves lapping against the sandy beach could be heard, but even that seemed to be muffled. Apart from that, everything seemed normal; the sky began to get lighter with the coming of the sun, and the ocean breeze was bitterly cold.

However, as they looked closer, they could see that blood had been soaked into the sand. Drangok weapons and clothing lay strewn across the beach, and they were certain that the white they saw were bones. Human bones.

Only a crudely and hastily dug seven-foot deep trench that was barely twenty five feet wide stood between them and the Bay.

Leravacha and Zairyk exchanged worried glances with each other. The Warlord jumped off his camel and walked over to her, signalling for his men to stay put.

"Gorak? Rinea?" Leravacha called. The soldiers cringed at the loudness of her voice echoing off the water. "Can anybody hear me?"

"Lera, I don't-"

"Somebody is groaning," Varenyl suddenly said. He glanced at Leravacha and nodded his head towards the trench. "Don't you hear it?"

Before anyone could stop her, Leravacha ran and jumped down into the trench. The companions and Zairyk soon followed her.

It was a woman; a very injured and bloody woman. Aerysdren almost gagged at the sight of her. Her left arm had been completely severed and her right leg was twisted in a direction that a human leg should never be facing. Her face was so caked in dirt and blood that she was completely unrecognizable.

She gazed at Leravacha with glazed over eyes. "Chieftain...you came," she choked. "I-I knew you would...."

"No no no, everything is alright. Everything is alright." Leravacha gently took the woman in her arms, trying her best to stop the blood flowing from her arm. "Where are the others?"

"G-gone," the woman whispered. Her eyes were dim and lifeless. It looked like it took everything in her to keep her eyelids open. "Dead...the monsters...they completely mutilated their bodies....I managed to...kill the rest of them...."

Leravach gently moved the woman's hair out of her eyes. "Somebody help her!" she hoarsely shouted.

Varenyl, handing his axe to Isendir, gently jumped down in the trench and crouched down next to them. He gazed at the dying woman with no amount of pity in his eyes. His gaze turned to her arm. "She is too far gone," he said monotonously. "It is a miracle that she has survived this long; I can help ease her pain, but she has lost too much blood." He reached into his belt and withdrew several bandages and a few other things.

"No." The woman shook her head. "Do...not waste your help on me," she struggled out. Her eyes began to close. "Chieftain...the monsters...you cannot fight them. Their bodies...turn to acid. They are too strong...."

"Dammit, do something!" Leravacha cried at Varenyl. She gingerly caressed the woman's bloodstained face. "Hush, child. Save your breath. We will get you out of here."

Varenyl gazed at the Chieftain with dull, emotionless eyes. "It is against my culture's beliefs to deny the wishes of a dying warrior. Even if she did give me permission, I would not be able to save her; only ease her pain, as I previously stated."

Tears glistened in Aerysdren's blue eyes. He gently grabbed a hold of Lorthrendel's arm, his throat burning. The mage gently turned the boy's head away from the sight.

Leravacha's eyes flared at Varenyl but she returned her attention to the woman. "You were very brave, warrior. Please, tell me your name so that we may sing songs of you back home," she whispered.

But the woman did not answer; her body went limp in Leravacha's arms. Her final breath was completely silent.

Leravacha let out a soft sigh and gently laid the woman down on the ground. "May the sands guide you to Cheimon's breast, sister," she said quietly. She slowly stood up and glared down at Varenyl. "How can you be so cold?" Her hand clenched.

The Sylvari only twisted to his feet and climbed out of the trench. He took his axe back from Isendir and glanced back at her. "My apologies. I've found out that I simply lack the ability to feel sympathy for anyone anymore. I assure you that it is nothing personal."

Leravacha's scowl deepened but she said nothing more. She climbed out as well and walked back over to her brother.

"I do not like this, Lera," said the Warlord in a grim tone. He pulled down his scarf and scratched his beard. "I really, really do not like this. And I never say that. What did she say about their bodies turning to acid?"

Leravacha crossed her arms over her chest and did not answer. Her gaze was glued to the bloody shore, an uneasy feeling coming over her. The wind had stopped; everything became still. Clouds began to blot out the rising sun. A few of Zairyk's soldiers began to stir and mutter amongst themselves.

Lorthrendel took his glasses off and put them into an inner pocket of his robes, casting a spell that would help his vision for the time being. He gently pushed Aerysdren behind him. "Isendir." He looked over at the Highlander. "Do you feel that?"

The silence that blanketed the air was suddenly shattered like glass. Zairyk's soldiers fell to their knees, screaming and clutching at their bleeding ears.

A Dragon's Banshee Call. A dragon was coming through the rift.

The sky turned a dark, hellish red and the wind picked back up. Lighting streaked across the unnatural sky, and the ground shook with every clap of thunder that echoed in the heavens. Varenyl turned his gaze up to the sky and gripped his axe with a deathlike grip. He had seen that sky before; back home in Lyrenbel, the night of the attack....

The shriek ended, and then they saw it.

The rift was fully opened; it was a misshapen circle that lay just above the surface of the water. It pulsed and breathed with energy, its shape constantly changing and shifting. And out of it crawled the most horrifying creature that any of the men standing on that beach had ever seen before.

"Cheimon protect us." Leravacha swallowed.

"By all the true gods...." Varenyl took a step back. "What the hell is that thing?"

Aerysdren tightly gripped Lorthrendel's hand. All color drained from the boy's face.

The dragon was nothing but a rotting corpse- a rotting corpse that was somehow still alive and breathing. Holes laced the ebony membrane of its wings and the white of bone was plainly visible in several places. Its eyes burned with a raging fire, and its rows of razor sharp, bloodstained teeth were permanently arranged in a vicious snarl. It landed on the beach, its claws digging into the sand as it moved its massive, maggot-ridden body forward. Behind it, jumping down from the rift in waves, was an army of Mydrahkgnyrs.

And they were charging.

Lightning suddenly streaked from Lorthrendel's fingertips and struck several of the monsters. They collapsed to the ground, dead, their bodies slowly degrading into acid. But the rest kept coming. 

With a great, resounding war cry, the Vondas Army charged the Mydrahkgnyrs. The Battle of Tribesmen's Bay had begun. 

***🐉***

this chapter is dedicated to Teddy_2004♡ she's honestly one of the sweetest ppl ive met on here, and she's been helping me out a lot recently. please go follow her, give her love, and check out her poetry book♡

im sorry it took me so long to update😅 this chapter was hard for me to write, especially with everything that's happened to me recently. I've not really had motivation to do anything. but i will promise that next update won't be so long.

please tell me any criticism you have♡ i feel this chapter could use it.

thank you so much for reading, and until next time~