The battlefield was a maelstrom of chaos and fire, a cacophony of clashing steel, roaring engines, and desperate cries. The Techie forces advanced with relentless precision, their mechanical exosuits gleaming under the crimson-tinted sky, their energy weapons searing the air with each discharge. The defenders of the Lesser Tree were on the brink, their magic faltering against the overwhelming technological onslaught.
Then the Drakes arrived.
From the ridge above the battlefield, a primal roar shattered the din of war. The sky seemed to darken as shadows swept across the plains, and all heads turned to see them. Humans, at first glance, but their forms began to shift and contort as they surged down the hill. Scales of molten gold, emerald green, and obsidian black rippled across their skin. Massive wings unfurled from their backs, blocking the light of the setting sun. Their eyes glowed like burning coals, and their voices rumbled with the deep, resonant growl of dragons.
The ground shook beneath their feet as the Drakes charged, their very presence exuding an aura of raw, unbridled power. Some grew talons as sharp as blades, their hands transforming into dragon claws that glinted with lethal intent. Others exhaled plumes of fire, torrents of frost, or searing acid, their breath weapons cutting swathes through the Techie ranks.
A massive Drake with scales like polished bronze leapt into the fray, his tail—a thick, spiked weapon—slamming into a Techie tank, crumpling it like paper. Another, her body shimmering with sapphire scales, vaulted into the air, her wings beating with a sound like thunder. She dove into the Techie lines, spewing blue fire that melted metal and flesh alike.
The Techies scrambled to regroup, their disciplined formations breaking apart under the sudden and ferocious attack. A squad of exosuited soldiers opened fire on a Drake whose body was covered in ruby-red scales. He roared in defiance, his arms morphing into massive, armored dragon limbs that deflected the energy blasts. With a single swipe, he sent the soldiers flying, their suits sparking and sputtering.
Above the chaos, a Drake with jet-black scales and glowing amber eyes hovered, his wings beating lazily as he surveyed the battlefield. With a guttural roar, he unleashed a blast of pure lightning from his mouth, striking a Techie command vehicle. The explosion lit up the battlefield, and the Techies’ communications fell into disarray.
The defenders of the grove, emboldened by the arrival of their draconic allies, rallied. Spellcasters hurled spells with renewed vigor, their chants mingling with the feral cries of the Drakes. Fey warriors pressed the attack, their natural agility and magic complementing the raw might of their dragon-kin companions.
The tide of battle shifted. What had been a calculated Techie advance turned into a desperate retreat as the Drakes tore through their rear lines, disrupting supply chains and demolishing heavy artillery. Smoke and fire consumed the battlefield, the Techies’ mechanized war machines now twisted ruins in the dirt.
The Drakes fought with a savage elegance, their movements a blend of human precision and draconic ferocity. They were unstoppable, a force of nature unleashed, and their enemies crumbled under their wrath. The battlefield was no longer a place for order and strategy—it had become the hunting ground of dragons.
The battlefield fell eerily silent as the last of the Techie forces retreated beyond the ridge, their heavy boots and clanking exosuits echoing into the distance. Smoke lingered in the air, mingling with the scent of scorched earth and magic, but the defenders had little time to celebrate their hard-won reprieve.
Above them, a low, ominous hum began to rise. Heads turned skyward, and expressions of triumph gave way to horror as a massive airship emerged through the thick smoke clouds. Its sleek metallic hull shimmered unnaturally, as though infused with a cold, unfeeling intelligence. The symbol of the Techie Kingdom, glowing with pulsing light, adorned its side.
The airship hovered menacingly above the Lesser Tree, its weapons bays opening to reveal rows of cylindrical devices lined with sharp red light—the telltale glow of Null energy. Null, the Techies' deadliest invention, designed to suppress and destroy magic at its core.
A deep, mechanical voice boomed from the ship, emotionless and resolute:
"Commencing Null Barrage."
The first strike hit like a thunderclap, a beam of red streaking down to the earth. It struck the Lesser Tree with surgical precision, its light refracting through the branches and leaves like shards of shattered glass. A resonant groan filled the air, as though the tree itself cried out in pain, its ancient magic buckling under the onslaught.
“No!” Ryu’s voice rang out, sharp with desperation. She staggered toward the tree, her movements unsteady, her connection to the Lesser Tree causing her to falter as its magic waned. Her silvery aura flickered and dimmed, the bond between them unraveling with each pulse of the Null energy.
Another beam struck, then another, each one carving through the Lesser Tree like a blade. The tree’s vibrant, glowing leaves withered and fell in a cascade of ash, its trunk splitting and charring. The surrounding air grew heavy, the once-palpable sense of life and magic dissipating as the Null energy consumed everything it touched.
Ryu dropped to her knees at the base of the tree, her hands clutching its scorched bark. Her breathing was ragged, and tears streaked her dirt-covered face. “Stay with me,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Please.”
The tree’s response was faint, a whisper of ancient magic brushing against her mind—a farewell.
The final barrage struck, an overwhelming pillar of Null energy that engulfed the Lesser Tree in a blinding flash. When the light faded, all that remained was a smoldering crater, devoid of life or magic.
Ryu was gone, his form reduced to glowing embers that drifted upward, carried by the wind. Her soul, bound to the tree, had perished alongside it.
The defenders stood frozen, their eyes wide with disbelief and grief. The airship lingered for a moment, its work complete, before turning and vanishing into the smoke-filled horizon.
The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the distant rumble of thunder. The heart of this land had been extinguished, its life snuffed out by the cold precision of Techie engineering.
And with it, Ryu—the soul of the Lesser Tree, a guardian and a friend—was lost.
The Life Tree shuddered violently, its mighty branches trembling as a deep, anguished groan echoed through its vast hollow. Enaid’s scream tore through the air, raw and piercing, as her body convulsed against the gnarled roots cradling her. Light flickered erratically through the crystalline veins of the Life Tree, its lifeblood dimming as it felt the death of its kin.
Dipak knelt beside Enaid, his heart pounding. Her skin glowed faintly, a sickly green hue that pulsed in time with the Tree's shivering cries. He pressed his hands to her trembling form, and as he did, the weight of realization crashed down upon him.
The Lesser Tree had fallen.
“No,” Dipak whispered, his voice strained with desperation. “This can’t be.” He glanced upward, his sharp gaze taking in the dimming canopy of the Life Tree. It was faltering, its strength ebbing with every passing moment. Enaid’s breathing was ragged, her connection to the Tree tethering her to life but unraveling fast.
There was no time.
Closing his eyes, Dipak reached out to the magic that bound Enaid to the Life Tree. It was fragile, tenuous, and slipping away. Gritting his teeth, he drew upon the power he so often restrained, letting it swell within him, wild and furious. He could not lose her. He could not let the Tree—the heart of Aer—fall.
“Hold on, Enaid,” he murmured, though she was barely conscious.
With a guttural cry, Dipak drove his hands into the Tree’s trunk. The bark splintered and split beneath his touch, and magic surged forth, raw and untamed. The air around them thickened with its force, vibrating with an energy so potent it made the ground beneath him quake.
The Tree responded, its ancient will entwining with Dipak’s. Its roots writhed and twisted, coiling around Enaid’s limbs and torso. Dipak guided the magic, his body shaking as he forced the Tree to rebind her soul. Bark crept over her skin, pale and translucent, merging with her flesh. Her scream dissolved into a choking gasp, her form sinking deeper into the Tree as it claimed her.
"Forgive me," Dipak whispered, his voice breaking.
The transformation was horrifying, beautiful, and unrelenting. Enaid's body twisted unnaturally as the Tree reshaped her, her legs dissolving into a tangle of roots that fused with the base of the trunk. Her arms melded into the bark, her fingers branching into delicate twigs that sprouted leaves. Her face remained for a fleeting moment, her eyes fluttering open and meeting Dipak’s.
And then, she was gone.
The Tree consumed her entirely, the faint outline of her form vanishing beneath the bark. What remained was indistinguishable—a smooth, unbroken surface where the girl had once been. Enaid’s essence became one with the Life Tree, strengthening it, but at a terrible cost.
Dipak fell to his knees, his hands pressed against the now-pulsing bark. He could feel her there, a faint flicker of her soul within the Tree, but it was no longer Enaid. It was something else, something beyond his reach.
A deep, guttural roar erupted from Dipak’s throat, his anguish shattering what little control he had left. His body convulsed, and the air around him grew searingly hot. The glow of his aura darkened, turning black, and his eyes burned with an unholy fire.
The Aspect of Wrath surged forth, a towering manifestation of fury and destruction. Dipak’s body twisted and expanded, his features distorting as pure rage consumed him. The ground beneath him split, molten veins of magic searing through the earth.
The Life Tree trembled but stood firm, its renewed strength holding the world together even as Dipak’s wrath threatened to tear it apart. The air was thick with his rage, a storm of fire and fury unleashed.
And yet, through it all, a whisper lingered in his mind—Enaid’s voice, faint and distant, a ghostly remnant of what he had sacrificed.
“Live,” it seemed to say.
But Dipak’s wrath was all-consuming, and there was no room left for anything else.
