The night sky above Spiteshade Vale was clear, thousands of bright blue stars flickered in the heavens. Green, blue, red and pink lowing spites flittered amongst the leaves and branches of the Ghyfir trees. Within the ancient Aelf tower Mandia Nightlock suddenly bolted upright from her dreams, her head still rang with the sound of the warhorn, Orion?!
She cleared her head and focused on what she had seen, Arthyr and his Wanderers had made it to the Realm of Fire. They had appeared in the Charred Forest and claimed the area around the Dragon gate, setting to work brining life magic to the devastated vegetation. She saw Arthyr and her sisters approach a giant charred oak and start the process of healing. Bright green blossoms burst across the branches of the tree, swirling white runes flared to life around the mighty trunk.
The ground beneath their feet trembled, the white flaring lines of the runes speared into the earth and suddenly shot out across the ruined ground and into the distance. Then a horn blared, the sound came from everywhere, her hair stood on end, her eyes widening, her desire to run and hunt became hard to ignore... Then she had awoken, along with a power that had long been thought lost...
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