The stench of burning wood wafted through the air as the Lilithiaen trees of The Great Forest screamed with agony throughout. This pleased the lurking figure in the darkness. He watched as the woven stone of the kingdom it once called home crumbled. The stench of the soulfire was not the only thing present within the crumbling haze of the Grand Realm. Its’ people fell victim to The Anakar Legion. The Anakar, visceral dragon-born creatures, kindred form, with long necks and dragon-like maws,. They tore through the city with unwavering ferocity.

The shadowed figure was too enthralled  the flames, he almost failed to notice a man attempt to flank him. He turned, The man was in fact of elven decent, a Kindred, clad in cracked silver-gold armor, A lone elfaen warrior. bloodied, bruised, chest heaving and breath coming out in rasps. Never-the-less the soldier raised his sword, standing his ground before the Shadow , hatred burned from his eyes like the blaze surrounding them.

The sight amused the beast-lord, "A lone Guardian of the Queen." The Shadow chuckled, the row of fangs glowed eerily in the light of the soulfire. The Darkness taunted his opponent, “Facing death without fear…” The Shadow Lord dispersed, materializing a moment later, his arm forming within the mans’ chest. The Dark Lord ripped his hand free, the Guardian slumped to the ground. An ethereal claw grasped the mans’ still pounding organ “Pity…”, The Daemon sunk its’ shining teeth into the pulsing amethyst heart.

More shouts filled the air, warriors from the closer holds began to approach, “Let That be an example of what will happen to you; If you cross me!” Soldiers began to surround him, drawing their blades. ‘So be it.’, the shadowy figure whispered; his ethereal sword materialized from the darkness.