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Hi, I'm Tsath, and I'd like to just take a quick moment to remind you to review chapters, subscribe if you like, and send this around to any friends that you think might enjoy it! Doing so helps keep the story alive, and helps me churn out more content that will please you, dear reader!
P.S. - I do not own Guild Wars, Guild Wars 2, or ArenaNet, only my words. Thanks! Enjoy.

Prologue

Through two curtains of darkness, thin moonlight seeped in. The stars danced and swirled in the black sky, thousands of brilliant, miniscule lanterns quivering in the ink of night. The moon hovered ominously in the air, the divine witness to what atrocities lay below. She lay bloodied and broken in the open valley, her eyes fluttering into consciousness.
The gentle breeze floated through the grass of Ascalon, and she lay there, flayed and tormented, the long grass beneath her turning crimson. She looked upon the night sky as she became more awake, and put a hand to her side. She couldn't feel it. It was cold. It was numb. She rolled over onto her stomach and let out a yelp as pain surged from her dripping wound.
The dragon was here. She fixed her eyes upon the inky black horizon, her failing eyesight peering only into the darkness. She tried to stand, placing one blood-soaked hand on the ground, dirt clinging to the hot liquid. An Elder Dragon really was here. Right here... right now.
Ragged gasps of breath tore their way from her lips, desperate to fill her bloodied body with air. She turned her head from the horizon over to the massive fortress that lay beside her. The Ebonhawke... One of the last bastions of humanity. Once, humans stretched across the entirety of Tyria. From the western depths of the Maguuma Jungles to the eastern valleys of Ascalon, humanity thrived in the face of danger. Humanity's days were dwindling from their ardent blaze... to ancient coal.
She made her way over to a giant creature, standing at eight feet at the hackles. The creature was humanoid, but that was where the differences ended. It was covered in a thick pelt of fur and horns that resembled thin flames, a muscular and powerful frame lying beneath. A feline face was twisted with brutality, and large fangs jutted from its maw. She tried to help the creature to its feet. Gasping at one muscular arm, she hoisted with all her strength. The creature grunted as it pulled itself to its feet and spat on the ground.

"I need no help from you. I am charr." The charr growled as he grabbed his large axe-rifle and made for the broken keep. The Ebon Vanguard needed all the help they could get. All the help against...

With a sound that bludgeoned the air for miles, she whipped her head to the midnight horizon. There was a storm cloud... But not like the storm cloud she had seen, nor anyone in all of the wondrous corners of Tyria. Its wings blocked out the sky. Wings that stretched for miles... Wings that covered the horizon. The cloud flashed with lightning the color of blood.
It stirred, the dark miasma twisting around some gigantic, unseen shape. One's eye simply refused to focus upon it, the darkness shifting and weaving in and out of the black night. Perhaps there was a talon, or a maw that could devour a village in one bite. One could've sworn they saw a tail that stretched longer than rivers, or a sea of crystalline spines...
But one thing was clear, despite the dark cloud's illusion. Two voracious red eyes gleamed from the shadow, each the size of trees. This was no midnight storm. This was no mere fantasy to frighten children, no illusion or hallucination. This was one of the Elder Dragons. Kralkatorrik.
Her mouth gaped at the monstrosity, terror filling her breast. She trembled at the darkness, a devourer of the world. With another beat of its cloud-covered wings, shockwaves descended upon the ground and battered the keep under siege. The wretched force of wind shook the ground and tore grass from the field, the blast heading towards her.
She was buffeted aside, thrown like a plaything. After her breathless soar of a dozen feet, she violently crashed against the ground with a yelp. The hard earth impacted against her wound and her head followed suit. There was the snapping of ribs and the crack of a skull. For a moment, she thought she heard the whispers of Grenth calling to her. But she yet lived... barely.
Filled with terror, filled with fear, and filled with blood, she looked up into the storm of darkness. Like a crystalline formation, golden light began to form in the storm, right under the eyes that greedily surveyed the battlefield. With a sound that ripped apart eardrums, the light thrusted forwards and scorched the earth. All that was left was a black, ugly, crystalline scar. The devouring light poured over Ebonhawke, making its way to her. With her last conscious thought, she held up her hand, as if she had the power to stop such a force of greed and gluttony.

With horrible speed, the light washed over her.