POV Narrator:

The great Farkeath kingdom, an old kingdom situated in the Eternal forest. They are a society of people who believe in the spiritual power of nature and the world around them. Through this belief, they harnessed extraordinary gifts. Those chosen by the Gods may attempt to learn how to wield this mighty power, but it was not without effort or personal sacrifice.

Alre Leoynore, an apprentice mage crouching at the edge of the forest, looks out over the battlefield. “Today we will show the Syscilus Kingdom the true power of our magic. They will never again dare to dream about uniting the continent,” he muses. Steadily, the Farkeath kingdom's troops march out from the Eternal forest, like a proud beast ready to show no mercy towards its enemies.

Alre Leoynore is a person chosen by the Gods to wield their power, one of the many. “The age of elves and swords will finally come to an end,” Alre vows in his heart, condemning the opposing army to certain death. His gaze wanders, stopping on the Ancient lake next to the would-be battlefield. “Today our greatest magic will be unleashed and all will tremble before its glory,” a wide grin spreading across his face, scenes of complete destruction fills his mind.

Alre's gaze shifts towards the Farkeath magicians huddling in a circle. An enormous scroll floats in the middle of them and only the sounds of methodic chanting can be heard. The ground underneath his feet, rumbles. His anticipation spikes and a single, exciting thought reverberates in his mind, “A spell so powerful that it was deemed impossible to create...”.

The greatest magic the Farkeath Kingdom ever created, Divine Deliverance. So powerful, it was deemed almost comically unusable. To merely activate the spell, an untold amount of resources would be needed, rivalling that of a small nation. Spells of this tier were thought to be beyond of the realm of mortals, that was until Farkeath’s greatest magician; Eldaernth Adnelis spent ten years in solitude, obsessing without results over the matter of creating something which could rival even the power of the Gods.

One day, as if guided by fate, Eldaernth was struck with sudden inspiration and managed to create a single scroll of Divine deliverance. This scroll only held one charge, but harboured powers greater than anything a mortal could dare imagine. Consequently, he went mad from the sheer absurdity of his creation. For years the scroll was locked away in the treasury of the Farkeath kingdom. The magician Lords, unsure of the spell's power, deemed it too dangerous for use outside of the gravest situation.

Magic condenses around the scroll, so dense it's almost liquid. The magicians endlessly pour their elemental power into the scroll, providing it with strength. “The day has finally come,” Alre watches as the clouds condense, a devious grin spreading across his lips.

The scroll's power slowly reaches its pinnacle. Divine lightning forms in the cloud, the scroll unleashing its true might. A blinding light radiates as this holy spell descends upon the battlefield. The spell, like an angry dragon released from its cage, unstoppable in its purpose, descends. The lighting leaves nothing but destruction in its wake yet, the Syscilus army remains strangely untouched.

The spell, as if guided by fate, diverges from its intended path. Instead of striking the Syscilus army, the spell impacts the Ancient lake, its calm waters shaking in anger. The ground rumbles and cracks spread around the base of the Ancient Lake.

Alre, while recovering from the blinding light, glimpses something in the distance. With hazy vision, he observes the outline of a large shape emerging from the waters. A shadow akin to night descends. The giant shape, blocking out the sun, looms.

Any feeling of confidence or arrogance, that he just had before, crumbles in the figure's presence. His legs shake and a feeling of dread wells up in his heart. With quivering lips and terrified eyes, Alre screams in terror, "What in God's name is that?!'.