Under the vast canopy of the Titan Tree Anthace—its crown blotting out the sky—a nondescript trio stood motionless on a high branch, watching the chaos tearing through Lustris directly below.
The capital had long since turned into a flaming hellscape. The monstrous tide erupting from the depths had overwhelmed what little remained of its elite defenders.
Buildings once gleaming with Lumyst light now lay in molten ruins. Corpses littered the streets like broken dolls, some still twitching, half-eaten, abandoned mid-meal by distracted predators. Entire districts had been swallowed by flesh and fire. From above, the city looked like a dying organism—arteries of flame, spasms of violence, its final heartbeat stuttering.
