The human realm of Dystoria lay in absolute ruin. The tornado had swallowed up majority of the courtyard leaving some unfortunate ones laying dead in the open under the scorching sun.
Among all other nations of the world, Dystoria was landlocked with the only access to water being the back gates that were under high security day and night.
Twisted metal and shattered glass littered the streets like broken bones. Smoke curled from distant fires, and the sky hung low and bruised, as if the world itself mourned what had become of it. The moment the group materialized, every surviving soul within sight dropped to their knees. Heads bowed, hands trembled as they reached toward one figure alone whom they all saw as supreme.
Severin.
