The Siege of the Warsled      

"What's with this wall?" Von asked, his eyes scanning the cryptic symbols etched across the stone.

Rysamora's gaze remained steady, her voice calm. "We have just a few hours to solve a puzzle that has stumped our elders for decades. Everything will be revealed — wait patiently, and stand by."

Time passed, and as the scholars worked tirelessly, a faint glow began to pulse through the ancient runes, slow and groggy at first, then with increasing speed. Each rune illuminated in sequence, and with each flicker, something stirred in the distance.

The Nix army surrounding the mounds shifted. Their once-dull eyes now shone in eerie unison with the glowing runes.

The Amberskin sentries snapped to attention, gripping their weapons tightly, their fear on their faces as the dragonkin stood at the edge of their camp, a vast horde on the brink of charging. The tension was suffocating; the air hung heavy with impending doom as Rysamora and her team hurried to complete the activation.

Horizon's heart pounded in his chest as he stepped forward, his gaze fixed on the army. The dragonkin watched him, their glowing eyes cold, calculating. He could feel their power pressing against him like a weight, suffocating, threatening.

Above the horde, several Nix dragons circled in the thick mist, their ghostly wings beating silently against the sky. But then, something far more ominous emerged. From the vapor, an enormous skeletal dragon appeared, its body towering over the others, adorned with a glowing blue-black halo that pulsed in rhythm with the rune carved into its forehead.

The Amberskin warriors froze, their courage drained at the sight of the colossal Dracolich trampling lesser dragons beneath its bony feet. The ground trembled as it moved, until it stood at the head of the undead army.

It raised one monstrous claw and slammed it into the earth, sending a thunderous shockwave through the camp. Dust and debris swirled in the air as the skeletal beast stood tall — this was no ordinary dragon. This was the general of Nixis' brood, a deathless abomination, leading its forces to wipe them out.

Horizon felt a frigid chill creep into his chest, as if icy fingers were clawing at his soul. A raspy voice, ancient and terrible, echoed inside his mind: "Come to me . . ."

The words echoed in his skull, foreign and twisted. What was that? He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

Just as it seemed the Dracolich would command its army to annihilate them, the runes around the mounds flared to life. Blue energy shot through the tunnels beneath the ground, snapping and spreading, consuming the Husks with a blinding surge of light. The earth beneath their feet erupted, rocks and debris shooting skyward in a massive explosion.

Amid the devastation, Horizon saw something buried deep within the Husks — a metallic shell, ancient and half-submerged in the dirt. The object was massive, resembling the hull of a ship. Its dark metal frame glinted dully, adorned with arcane decorations, and ghostly blue light streamed from multiple points along its structure.

Rysamora didn't hesitate. She leapt onto what appeared to be the vessel's deck. Tulemo and Linji quickly followed, helping Vodgo aboard, while Nukkos and the few remaining elite guards formed a defensive perimeter.

"Everyone who can—board now!" Rysamora shouted.

Panic erupted in the camp as men, women, and children rushed forward, scrambling onto the strange vessel. At the same moment, the runes embedded in the skulls of the undead army glowed with the same blue energy. With a unified roar, the entire enemy surged forward in a murderous charge.

"Horizon! We need to go! Now!" Von's voice cut through the chaos.

Without hesitation, Horizon and Von sprinted toward the ship, barely making it aboard as the undead horde crashed against the mounds behind them.

Once on the deck, they were greeted by a gasping Vodgo, pale but alive. Between labored breaths, he managed a weak smile. "Welcome . . . to the Warsled," he wheezed. "An ancient invention . . . created by wizards and artificers . . . long gone. A relic . . . from an age we barely understand."

"Is this the artifact?" Horizon asked, his voice edged with disappointment. He had expected some ancient weapon or powerful piece of equipment, not an old, creaking ship. How was he going to claim this treasure then?

Vodgo nodded, his tired eyes heavy with his illness.

"You've been keeping this thing hidden all this time?" Von asked, incredulous.

Tulemo stepped forward. "We had no choice. Our scholars only just deciphered the runes, and it's not like we could come out here to study them whenever we wanted."

"Even so, we're not out of trouble yet," Tulemo added, his eyes scanning the horizon where the undead horde gathered strength.

As the skeletal army surged toward them, Horizon's stomach dropped. The Warsled, for all its mysterious power, wasn't moving.

Rysamora acted quickly, her voice sharp as she barked orders. "Nukkos, get below deck and fetch the spears!" She turned to Atyan and her warriors. "Ready the arbalests! They're hidden under the tarps across the deck — get them into position!"

She then motioned to Horizon and Von, her tone urgent. "When the spears arrive, load them into the weapons like this." She demonstrated quickly, sliding one into the groove of the massive arbalest. "Pull these levers and aim for those creatures! Don't hesitate, or we're done for!"

Horizon and Von moved swiftly, adrenaline coursing through their veins as they took in the bizarre machinery of the Warsled. Bluish energy surged along the rods and railings, crackling with arcane power. The entire vessel trembled beneath their feet as if it was alive — but still, it didn't move.

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PS. The first arc focuses on Horizon obtaining his [Title] around 30 chapters or so, before the story shifts to Eternia, where the real journey and the competition truly begin.

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