The Ninro drew closer once again, a silent reminder that appearances could deceive even the most prepared.They had only been momentarily fooled. The danger was far from over. The army had been tricked.
For a brief moment, hope flickered.
The massive wolf-shaped creatures did not immediately attack the city. They slowed, circling at the edge of the plain, their enormous forms looming against the horizon. Yet Wendell felt the tension coiling beneath the scene, the fragile relief that could shatter at any second.
As the creatures surged forward once more, rushing toward the two hundred feet of opposing rock that stood between them and thousands of lives, that hope began to fade. The height of the city walls meant nothing to beings like these.
It was not enough to stop what was coming.
Still, it was enough to spark hesitation. The army wavered.
At the center of the formation, the young commander raised his voice and began to chant. At first, his words were meaningless, broken syllables scattered into the air. But as they converged, something else took hold. A greater power shaped them, bending intent into form.
A sigil ignited.
Golden threads burst forth around the army, weaving themselves into an intricate inlaid pattern that spiraled outward before converging on the commander's position. The air thrummed.
A bolstering cry rolled across the plains as smaller threads split off and raced through the landscape. They wrapped around boulders and trees alike, forcing matter to obey a forgotten rule. Stone groaned. Roots tore free. What had once been silent began to move.
The sounds that followed distilled into something unnatural, a single melody formed of countless notes, played on one vast chord. It spread across the battlefield, calling everything it touched toward a single purpose.
Golems awakened.
Ancient stone figures rose from the earth in a deeply antique state, releasing sounds that had not been heard in centuries. One note rang out sharper than the rest, clear, singular, familiar.
Wendell felt it resonate through him.
The golems moved with purpose and loft, their massive frames shifting as if stirred by memory itself. A sudden motion rippled through their ranks, and they turned as one to face the approaching monster horde.
Golden threads reformed, weaving new patterns around the constructs. Several golems grew larger, mirroring the transformation Wendell had seen Melody achieve. With every step they took, the ground compacted beneath them, stone cracking under divine weight.
An army of golems formed a living barrier between the Ninro and the human soldiers.
And yet, the position was perilous.
Ahead lay the aftermath of the Aether explosion, a scar on the world still bleeding creatures into existence. Hundreds poured forward behind the Ninro, twisted and malformed, driven by instinct and something far worse. The human soldiers were poorly armed, exhausted, and afraid, bolstered only by relics from an age long dead.
This was not a battle the city had planned for.
Hope collapsed.
The soldiers who moments ago had stood straighter now felt despair sink deeper than before. Not the fear of death, but the certainty of it.
Then the Ninro made a sound.
For the first time since the disaster began, a deafening roar split the air. Ether surged, and a blast tore through the great stone wall at the army's flank. Dust and debris erupted skyward as the fortification collapsed inward, turning the city's defense into a second, gaping gate.
Wendell's breath caught.
The Ninro had never possessed such power. Not like this.But mutated creatures were unpredictable, and these were led by an Alpha.
The sound echoed for miles.
The army's attention snapped toward the breach as rubble thundered down behind them. Dust obscured the aftermath, swallowing screams and drowning commands. Confusion spread like fire.
Wendell felt it all again.
The helplessness. The dread. The knowledge of what would follow.
He wanted to shout, to warn the younger man standing at the center of it all, but no sound escaped him. He could only watch as the scene pressed itself into his being, as if meant to punish the living through the dead.
A sharp pain lanced through his vision.
The battlefield blurred. The city faded. Stone and fire dissolved as though a curtain were being drawn back, pulling a once-living world into nothingness.
A past that no longer existed, clinging only to remind Wendell of what he had lost.
The vision shifted.
And suddenly, he was standing once more before the tavern, watching the city rebuild itself in ghostly light, watching his family laugh in streets that no longer existed.
The flashback was not over. His story was not yet concluded.
The scene shifted. Once again placing his conscious in that of another time. The old buildings that had stood for many years began to decontruct themselves. The dark sun began to set. A distant light fading as shadows began to engulf the world that stood before him.
The hole in the great wall surrouding the city allowed a beam of light to pierce the lingering dust that lay above the world.
Wendell took the scene in. Before him lay a barren city, obviously the aftermath of something horrible.
A perfect eerie silence. Followed by the screaming of the few who still existed in this world.
Wendell was currently witnessing the aftermath of the battle that ensued. Children wandered the streets without an adult to coddle their abrupted spirit. In fact there was not anyone over the age of 16 to be seen.
The force that had swept through the desperate city seemed to take every adult with it.
All the soldiers had been slaughtered. Many of the homes were trampled along with the people hiding inside.
Wendell had begun to remember. This was the damaged city. The result of hundreds of monsters claiming what was not theirs. Wendell spotted a caravan of sorts, making its way across the landscape. The young man from before leading them through the city, picking up the stragglers that still remained.
The young man walked through the barren streets, passing glances at the children who remained. A desperate facade plastered across the same face that had once been full of happiness. Trying to comfort those that remained. It was a turbulent existance.
Only the trail of children following the man remained constant. Ever growing as he made his way down a familiar route.
The golems walked the same path. About a dozen or so that had survived the onslaught marched behind the children. Holding some of the younger ones that were incapable of walking in their arms.
The young man lead the ensuing march. Gathering all of the children that remained in the city.
His own daughter that he had been playing with earlier lay sleeping. She was being carried in the arms of the golem that the young man had summoned. A simple breeze startled the hair on her head.
The sounds of footsteps constant