In the distance, alarm bells rang. Torches roared to life along the parapet, and intense shouts and clamour filled the air. Meshed against the clear, black night, the massive shapes of arachnid-mantis hybrids began to stir. The last piece of sand had fallen through the hourglass, and now the entire city of Scorchshield roused, rallying its forces to hunt down the runaway prince. Altan and Griffin were well outside of city bounds where the sewers emptied into a large, filthy pit, and they had a head start. There was just one problem.
      Altan didn't know where Knax and Jarret were.
      In order to ensure a safe escape from the city, Altan had sacrificed the meetup details of his plan. His eyes frantically scanned the sandy dunes for some kind of sign, the blue glow of Knax's flames, a silhouette against the night sky, anything. But they were tucked away quietly in a hidden nook somewhere, and having exited the city at a different location, Altan found himself completely and utterly disoriented as to their whereabouts. Panic began to creep in the edges of his mind. He clutched Griffin's sword tight, begging his brain to figure it out. The Black Guard would not underestimate them twice.
        But there was no time to think, just do. "Griffin, do you have enough energy to send up a signal? Something like a flare? A beacon?" Altan asked urgently, fingers tracing imaginary pillars of light through the air between them.
       "Have you lost your mind?" Griffin asked, wide eyed.
       "Look, look I know, okay? I know how it sounds. But we need to be out of here like, an hour ago, and I have no clue where Knax or Jarret are. This is our best chance of getting out of here in less than two pieces. Can you do it?"
        Griffin's muscles tensed. His eyes, faint as they were, bored into Altan's soul with the same intensity they had oh so long ago. It was comforting, in a way. "Of course I can. Engbem!"
Griffin raised his non-injured arm to the sky and gasped in pain as a brilliant beam of white energy burst through his broken fingers. The magic soared several hundred feet into the sky, a pillar of light cutting through the thick night, before finally sizzling out in a spray of shimmering fragments. Griffin stumbled, coughing up blood, and Altan helped him into a more comfortable position on the ground. He'd poured whatever strength he could muster into that blast, and now all they could do was pray Knax and Jarret saw it. Pray that they saw it, and got to Altan and Griffin before the soldiers did.
They didn't have to wait long.
Barrelling over the crest of a low-rising dune came Knax, her vibrant blue flames leaving long, twisting trails in the night. Jarret was riding beside her atop a creature that vaguely resembled a large sphinx cat with giant, webbed paws that allowed it to sprint quickly across the sand, and tan mottled skin that camouflaged it against the sand. A sunstrider, Jarret had called it.
Throwing all caution to the wind Altan began jumping up and down, waving his arms and shouting frantically. "KNAX! JARRET!"
Immediately they redirected themselves towards Altan, dust swirling in the air as Knax and the sunstrider pivoted sharply towards them. As they drew nearer and nearer Altan could make out the frustrated and panicked expression on Jarret's face. Knax skidded to a stop in front of them, spraying them with sand, and Jarret practically hurled himself off the sunstrider to help Altan manoeuvre Griffin onto Knax's back. As Jarret scrambled back onto his sunstrider and he prepared to mount Knax in front of Griffin, he dared a glance towards the city of Scorchshield. The Scourge were gone.
"Come on, come on, let's go!" Jarret screamed.
He took off before Altan could even properly seat himself and, not wasting a second, Knax lurched to her feet and bolted after them. Griffin quickly wrapped his good arm around Altan's waist to prevent himself from being tossed off and within seconds the city walls were falling behind them. Altan caught just barely a glimpse of the waves of Black Guard and monstrosities spilling through the gates before Jarret was shouting a spell desperately to the wind and a sandstorm began to roar to life behind them.
     Griffin grunted in pain as he was jostled around on Knax's back, running faster than she'd ever run before. "How far is this 'Takeover'?" He shouted over the howling wind.
        "Far!"
       That wasn't reassuring.
        Minutes passed in the blink of an eye and it seemed like they were making solid getaway. That is until Altan decided he would glance back over his shoulder at the sprawling sandstorm behind them just in time for a spear of ice to graze past his cheek, slicing the skin thinly. The frozen spear impacted the ground ahead of them, quickly turning the surrounding sand to ice. Knax barked, leapt, and Altan clung to her for dear life as she stumbled momentarily and then continued running. When he looked back again to his horror four Black Guard were emerging from the dust, riding furiously atop grotesque Razorsteps. The one nearest to them formed another spear of ice in his hand and sent it careening towards Jarret who cursed and yanked the sunstrider to the side to dodge it.
       "We've got company!" Altan shouted.
       "Yeah! I noticed! Syrtal!"
        Inches behind them, the ground began to sink and burble, the firm sandy ground quickly giving way to quicksand. The Black Guard noticed the change too late, and their Razorsteps barrelled right into the thick of the slosh, shrieking and flailing as they tumbled to the ground with a thick 'plop'. The relief was short lived.
       A chittering shriek split the air, and Altan's heart leapt into his throat as a towering, shadowy figure burst from the standstorm. It's long, spindly legs sent quicksand and soldiers alike splattering to either side as it skittered over ground, saliva dripping from its foot-long fangs. A Scourge. For such a large monster, it moved fast, faster than anything he'd ever seen in his life. It's hulking form quickly advanced towards them and the closer it came, the more and more Altan's little spark of hope began to dim. Even Griffin, such a formidable swordsman and talented magic wielder, began to quake. He was frozen, gawking at the Scourge in pure, unbridled terror. Altan had never seen such primal fear on his face before. Not when they were running from the curse in the Splinterback ridge. Not when dozens upon dozens of Black Guard were swarming his beaten and broken body.
      They were so transfixed on the approaching Scourge behind them that they didn't register the low, reverberating flutter of massive wings above them until Jarret was screeching, Knax was trying to skid to an abrupt halt, and a giant mass of shadows dropped from the sky. As the second Scourge impacted the ground, a massive spiked foreleg slashed the space in front of them. Knax was already mid fall by then, and the giant arm cut through the air where their heads would have been milliseconds after they careened headfirst into the ground. Jarret was not so lucky. The sunstrider he was riding on was sliced cleanly in half in a spurt of guts and blood. Jarret himself managed to summon a protective shield much like Griffin could at the very last second, but the sheer force of the blow from the Scourge shattered his defence instantly, and Jarret was sent flying nearly a hundred meters to the side before impacting the ground, unconscious before he even landed.
      Altan writhed in the sand as the air was punched from his lungs, desperately reaching for Griffin's sword just an arms length out of reach. The sandstorm behind them dissipated, and Altan could see behind the Scourge hundreds of the Black Guard and various monsters surging towards them in this distance. This can't be it. This can't be how it ends. It just can't be!
      But there was no denying it. Jarret was out cold. The sunstrider was dead. Griffin could only muster enough energy in this pits of his adrenaline to summon a moderate blast of wind and send the thick string of webs the first Scourge shot off course into the second, who shrieked angrily and slashed at the sticky restraints. Knax, as brave and loyal as she was, could barely pierce the leathery flesh of the beast's leg with her sharp teeth, let alone kill it entirely. So instead she placed herself in front of Altan, snarling and snapping like if she could bark loud enough, the Scourge might go away. Her flames roared so brightly they were blinding. But Altan? He was useless.
      He was useless to fight back, armed with his toothpick of a sword against The Scourge and an army of monsters and men who were meters away from them now.
     He was useless to protect Griffin, who even in such a deteriorated state still fought to save them.
       He was useless to do a single thing but watch as Knax was picked up by a Scourge like a teddy bear, howling in pain as the spikes on its forelegs pierced so easily through her soft stomach.
        And it squeezed.
        And Knax's flames went out.
        And the two halves of her cleaved body fell wetly to the desert sand.
The world fell away in a cacophony of shouting, shrieking, and noise. Somewhere to the right of him, he was vaguely away of Griffin roaring at his enemies in defiance, trying desperately to crawl his way over to Altan. But Altan's vision was tunnelled onto the dead body of Knax. Sweet, loyal Knax who, of anyone here, did not deserve to die. And in that moment, something inside of him snapped.
Power swelled from within him. Energy sparked through his veins. Altan pushed himself to his feet, and he thought back. Back before Scorchshield, before Keld. Before Axminster, before Knax, before Bridget and the rebellion at Crag's fort. Back to a time when he was still new to this world, still in denial, running for his life beside Griffin through the forest by his cabin. Where he truly witnessed magic for the first time. The smells, the feelings, the wails of agony as men burnt under the roar of Griffins flame. In that moment, suspended between the folds of time, it was like Altan's body was moving on its own accord.
His power, his true nature awakened that night in the Chronoquil desert, and from the depths of his soul Altan screamed "ANIMA IGNIS!" and watched as men and monster alike burned in an inferno of green flame.