PREVIEW

... thriving city of Ilis had become a portrait of ruin. Fires crackled like laughter from the gods, smoke coiled skyward like serpents, and the screams of the dying carried through the air with a symphony of despair. Roots erupted from beneath the earth, twisting into spires of thorn and stone, crashing through towers and crushing homes beneath their cruel weight.

Above it all, floating effortlessly on invisible currents of myst, was Sylvathar—the Green Calamity himself.

He stood as ...

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