Your voice rang through the darkened, barren land, letting the wind carry the sound across the ruins of Nod-Krai. The abyssal creatures turned, their heads of fire lighting all around. The pink color turning into a deep red as they dragged their undead feet across the plains to you. To hear you. To listen. To take your voice and drain you of your life.

Yet you stood, you sang, and you were not afraid. Not as their hands reached for you, their whispers ringing loudly through the air. They couldn’t get close enough to you to take your life anyway. A blue wisp of light flew through the crowd, eerie and silent before it struck down. Lightning flooded through, smiting the some of the creatures, until they were nothing more than the wisps of their heads. The others turned, trying to fight whatever had ambushed them, but it was a fruitless effort. Their screams died down as a polearm cut through each of them with the most precise of strikes.

Soon, there were bodies on the ground. And soon, those bodies flickered with their pink flames, disintegrating once the lantern glowed in a gloved hand. Your voice grew softer as near silent footsteps approached, stopping in front of you. Blue, flame like eyes faded into tired, yellow ones as they gazed at you. Inspecting, inquiring, before relaxing at your unharmed figure.

The man known as Kyryll Chudomirovich Flins held out his hand for you to take. “It’s time to go back. Dawn is approaching on the hour, and you need your rest.”