The dense mists of Deadroot Forest hung heavy over the bloodied battlefield like the breath of a dying beast. Steam rose from cracked tree roots, and cinders from the earlier battle between the Nullcarvers and the Chaos practitioners still smoldered in the underbrush.
Eirana stood tall amidst the wreckage. Her silver hair clung to her sweat-slicked cheeks, her breathing calm but sharp. Behind her, seventeen Nullcarver warriors—manaless, Qi-hardened, sworn to silence and survival—stood in rigid formation, their bodies laced with the deep etchings of secret techniques only the ancient could decipher.
Facing them from the opposite side of the clearing were more than two dozen Elven warriors, adorned in green and silver lightweave armor, bows nocked and swords drawn. At their head was Captain Maeralyn, a stoic warrior whose lineage seems to be from a royal line due to how the others are treating him.
