Had those three divisions paid closer attention, they might have noticed the subtle way those stone figures moved and writhed as they fell, or perhaps caught a glimpse of flickering Arcanis peaking out from beneath their wounds.
The Tyrin were dying, whether they admitted it or not – the sacrifices they’d made to survive meant tomorrow bore no future generations of Fae.
Gone are the luminous fae of myth. They’re called Tyrin now, an ancient word in an ancient tongue meaning Warskin.
It was the dawn of a new age; the last of the Kendai retainers retired from the field. Recast as bodyguards; these nobleborn pledged their lives to the Hierarch of Achades…
It wasn’t enough to fossilize the Alduin. I needed them to represent the unknown, fear for some, discovery for others, maybe death for both. The Alduin became devourers of the infinite — unknowable — an extinct race that obliterated itself in nuclear fire.