POV Narrator:

The 10th age.

Ages have passed since the last elemental walked this world, but the flow of time did not stop.

The vast continent of Zanthia, a land divided by the Eternal forest of the west and the Roaring plains of the east. The great Syscilus kingdom rules over the plains with their powerful mounted warriors. The mysterious Farkeath kingdom dwells in the Eternal forest with their strange elemental magic practitioners, whose powers are derived from the essence of the Gods.

In the divide between these two great kingdoms, an ancient giant lake lays. Rumoured to have existed since a time when the first elves walked this vast continent. It is here where the fate of the two neighbouring kingdoms will change forever.

General Gáth Ionwoad, the leader of the great Syscilus army, is a tall elf measuring two meters in height with a broad build and blue hair. His eyes wander through his proud army. He knows that today he'll finally conquer the Farkeath army and unite the great continent of Zanthia. His only obstacle is the strange magic of the forest elves, but surely with an army as great as his, none would dare to stand in his way.

The area around the Ancient lake is a reckless area to hold a war. The region is prone to sudden earthquakes, but this might work in his favour. Across the plain, next to the Ancient Lake, the Farkeath army slowly advances out of the Eternal forest. A cold wind sweeps the morning dew gently resting on the Roaring plain's fields.

A wind of change is in the air, bringing both salvation and calamity.

Off in the distance, Gáth observes the Farkeath army. Some strange movements in their formations catch his eyes. He raises his hand, preparing to signal the mounted troops' charge. Suddenly, the sky darkens, and endless clouds condense above his army. A cold chill, much colder than the morning winds, fills his body. A bad premonition stops his actions. Gáth knows that this is likely the work of the Farkeath magicians, but power on this scale is unprecedented even for them.

His eyes narrow. A reckless charge into this unknown power would lead to his downfall, but hesitation can't be tolerated on the battlefield. He can feel it in his bones, a power beyond mortal comprehension, his muscles tense. The seconds tick by, but his hand stays raised.

A rumble shakes the ground, a common occurrence near the Ancient Lake, but a bad sign for what's to come. The rumbling ground quakes. The air cracks and an explosion of light erupts in the sky. A single bolt of divine lightning descends from the clouds, the godly creation of the Farkeath magicians. Snaking through the air, as if guided by fate, the bolt impacts the ancient lake, missing its intended target.

A deafening explosion rings in Gáth's ears. The blinding impact, impairing his vision and clouding his mind. The ground shook, not like the occasional tremors that he was used to. No, this was something else entirely. The mounts begin to shake, a primal fear warning them to flee, but Gáth didn't have time to ponder. These horses were trained for war; they were used to brutal conflicts, what could scare them?

The earth around the Ancient Lake shudders, and in an explosion of dirt, the ground ruptures. The Ancient Lake's water drains away by the meter. Gáth painfully opens his half-blinded eyes. A dark shadow looms over the entire battlefield, blocking any rays of sunlight from reaching the forsaken ground. Countless eyes filled with fear, stare at the giant figure blocking the sunlight.

Little did Gáth know, this isn't a giant beast. No, it's something else entirely, something colossal. Fate is calling and the bells are ringing, for the time has finally come.