Corva finds herself on an open plain, inspecting her surroundings.

I haven’t been here before. Have I?

Rolling grasslands engulf the gravel path where she stands, nothing like the dusty sage and cacti that pepper the land outside of Bule, and even less like the jungle of her youth. The sky is the strange, sunless, ruddy orange-pink that makes it difficult to tell if the day is coming or going.

Tracing up the path, she notices a diminutive figure standing silhouetted on a chunk of granite that protrudes above the sweet-smelling grass. It’s not a person. Not a full-sized one, at least. Too small. An animal of some sort? It could be a sculpture, forged in wrought iron, a tangible shadow given presence by the bizarre light. Or, wait, no, it’s moving; beckoning that Corva come closer. Perplexed, she takes a wary step toward the shadowy summoner.

And then another.

And another.

After covering half the distance between them, the figure becomes more defined and takes on more dimension. The silhouette effect isn’t just from the lighting. Starting just below its head, a furry black shroud—or maybe a coat—covers the thing, which is definitely not a person. People don’t have tails or night shine in their eyes. The little animal signals to her more urgently.

What’s the hurry? There’s no one around.

Corva stops and looks to her left and right.

Something certainly doesn’t feel right. Is the sun setting? Feels like it’s getting darker.

Turning back toward the little beast, she notices that it’s gesturing even more frantically and pointing?—yes, pointing up in the air. Looking up, dread creeps up Corva’s spine. Two enormous swarms billow up from the horizon and charge at one another, mottling the sky.

The swarms loom closer and the flying creatures in each become more distinct. They appear to be flying bundles of dynamite, fuses already ignited. In one swarm, they have leathery bat-like wings while in the other, they sport wings that are much more akin to birds of prey, like hawks or eagles. The clouds twist about one another in a serpentine concert of opposition. They’re not after her. It’s a dogfight of flying dragons and she’s merely collateral damage caught below.

Corva turns to the tailed creature that had been signaling to her, only, it’s no longer there.

No doubt it scurried off to hide.

She’s left to fend for herself among the flying explosive bundles that are already detonating in the sky above her.

As she watches, explosions get closer and closer.