The Siren of Xaaida latched onto the shoulder of the Nyulop who faced her, teeth rotating and grinding the flesh. The unfortunate Nyulop howled, swinging their blade wildly but failing. A second, a Draken, rushed to the Nyulop’s aid, but was batted away by a length of the beast’s tail. A third, another Nyulop, managed to sink their blade into the Siren’s skin, a bright blue blood leaking out. The creature released the Islander she had tried to consume, but moved quick, far too quick as the mist surrounded her. In a blink, she teleported, once, twice, then was on the offending Nyulop.
She was greatly worn down from the battle, open wounds pouring blood onto the snow. But it seemed she was determined to fight until her very last breath. The more she was attacked, the harder she fought, and the angrier she became. Fighters were wearing down, injured, battered, confused. So many lay bleeding, trying to fight on despite their injuries. Blue mist swirled at their feet, turning left to right, up to down.
The Siren sank her teeth into the arm of the Nyulop who had tried to save their friend, ripping into bone with a sickening crunch.
But despite their injuries, the Islanders were winning. Every attack the siren made was returned with equal ferocity.
They were making their final stand.
Fighters clashed with the weakening Siren. The Siren strikes desperately, shrieking as she realizes her time is limited. Daggers and arrows find their mark, and the Siren’s teeth sink into fewer prey. You are going to kill her. Her death is assured.
The Siren grows more frantic, more aggressive, before there’s a shift in her behavior.
She begins to try to flee, and she is good at escaping.
Arrows loose from their strings, and fighters turn blasts of magic on the very beast who had taught them. The monster is littered with arrows, blood pooling on the ground behind her. But she is managing to use her mist effectively, appearing in different locations and turning fighters around. Not enough blows are hitting their mark. Will she escape? Will you fail to slay her after all of this effort?
Blue mist and white snow swirl softly at first, then quickly. The haze suddenly dissipates, blown back from where fighters stand. A noise echoes around them, sounding closer to a flute than a roar. Nyulop, Draken, and Astralit alike glance around warily, wondering if another foe has come to face them.
A head with a pointed beak appears from the clouds, followed by a long, serpentine body. Multiple powerful wings beat the air, blowing away blinding gusts of snow. Fighters shield their faces, but stare at the creature that now hovers over the mountain’s peak.
Alongside the guardian, a flock of large birds swoop down, silhouettes resembling the Wraithels that have plagued the mountain.
As they approach, their round faces appear closer to the Guardian’s, however. Some birds carry reinforcements on their backs. The islander’s Elders, and a few reinforcements have made it up the mountain.
Not long ago…
The two villages, led by the Elders, sang songs and danced, calling to the winds amongst the frigid storm. Songs of determination, of safety. Kizis stood at the front of it all, directing the ritual. As her voice rose above the winds, a loud screech from above accompanied her. The Islanders looked up in shock to see a large bird with horns emitting a pink smoke, swooping down from the clouds. The creature landed in front of Xaaida’s leader, and for a long moment, the Islanders were on edge. Was this success? Or was this another foe?
But Kizis smiled knowingly, and Vahk’asha spoke. This was a messenger from Cíntwe.
A dozen more birds swooped down: the Phantomeres. Kizis called to any Islander who felt capable enough to join the fight to hop onto a Phantom.
Cíntwe shrieks, and the magical exhaustion and haze the fighters feel fades. You feel more energized.
The Siren tries to flee down the mountainside as Cíntwe appears.
The Guardian doesn’t let her.
Cintwe is faster and larger, flying at the siren and pinning her as she thrashes beneath them. The guardian opens their beak, letting loose an ear-splitting sonic wave. The sound waves hit the Siren and send a blast of snow into the air, the beast wailing. The fighters shield their faces as wind buffets them, nearly blowing them off their feet.
When it clears, the Siren’s body lays on the snow, the Guardian’s blast being more than enough to fell the dying beast. Cíntwe floats back into the air, and as you watch, the Siren melts into a puddle of blue powder. The only thing that remains is a blue woolen shawl resting on the snow.
For the first time in many months, the snow stops falling and the clouds break, allowing a small bit of sun to shine on the Island of Xaaida.