The warrior before me was at his wits end.
Each time he moved forward to attack, I shifted the sand, making his footing unstable and throwing his balance off. He growled in frustration, hacking wildly, but the earth I controlled betrayed him.
With a final cry, I let the desert surge upward, pulling his legs into the ground like shackles. His eyes went wide. I drove my sword through his chest, the sand swallowing his body as he fell.
The Bishar around him faltered, their confidence cracking. Our warriors seized the moment, pushing forward with renewed fury.
The desert ran red. The sun bled into the horizon, shadows stretching long. Still, we fought, but now the tide had turned.
The Bishar wavered. Their chants broke. Their war drums faltered.
And then, at last, they began to retreat.
Our warriors howled their victory to the skies, chasing them only so far before Tua Tahir's voice called them back to regroup.
