You stand near the trading square of Boulderbrook, a forge-village nestled in a canyon of smoking vents and ancient bones. The air thrums with heat and rhythm—metal striking metal, bone gears ticking, the drone of the wind through fossil vents.

Whatever your purpose, your instincts twitch as the ground quivers.

A moment later, a village horn cuts the air.

Long. Low. Warning.

The forge-hands drop their tools. Artisans freeze. You hear the low, guttural bark of one of the canyon sentries, then—

A flash of green. A small figure stumbles into the square.

A young Stegosaurus child—scales dusted with soot, tail dragging, plates twitching with adrenaline. In his hand: a jagged shard of fossil, glowing faintly with a soft amber light.

The child looks up at you—wide amber eyes, mouth trembling before saying...

"I knew it... they would follow it, it calls to them..."

It pulses. Once. The shard before you glows a green, and this child is holding onto it like if it's a toy...

But before you can think, or react even...

BOOM!

A storm appears, a fleshy storm that shouldn't exist. One that has claws, bones, feathers, rot... one that is scarier than ever...

What do you do?