The Last Roar Of The Wilds – An Unexpected Help
The cheers of the Chasind rang hollow for Fergus as he leaned heavily on the shattered wall of the reclaimed bastion. Blood stained the icy ground, and smoke curled upward into the cold night air. The Darkspawn had been driven back, but the toll was devastating.
Ruhn approached, his young face etched with grief as he clutched his spear. "Fergus," he said quietly, his voice breaking the somber silence. "Tharnik is gone… and so is Eralis."
Fergus's chest tightened, his hand curling into a fist. "How?"
"Tharnik fell while covering the retreat of his hunters," Ruhn explained, his voice heavy. "He held off an ogre long enough for the rest to escape. Eralis… she was caught by an Emissary's spell while tending to the wounded. She didn't make it back to the lines."
Fergus closed his eyes, the weight of the losses pressing down on him. Tharnik's stubborn defiance and Eralis's sharp wisdom had been invaluable, and now they were gone. But there was no time for grief. The Chasind needed leadership more than ever.
The surviving chieftains—Ruhn, Nira, and Veyna—gathered around Fergus in the ruined hall of the bastion. Despite the victory, their expressions were grim. They knew the Darkspawn would return, and the Archdemon was still out there, directing the horde's movements.
Before Fergus could speak, a sound shattered the tense silence: a deep, resonant roar that shook the air.
"The Archdemon," Nira whispered, her voice trembling.
Fergus's heart sank as he turned toward the sound. Through the jagged gaps in the walls, he saw it—looming in the distance, the Archdemon's massive form advanced with terrifying speed, leading the Darkspawn horde in a direct charge toward the bastion.
"We don't have time to prepare," Fergus said grimly. "We need to—"
He stopped mid-sentence as the air around them grew thick, almost suffocating. The world seemed to slow, the sounds of the approaching battle fading into silence. A strange energy crackled in the air, and Fergus's heart raced as a familiar feeling washed over him—a presence he had felt before.
"Nira," Fergus said, glancing at her. Her wide eyes told him she felt it too.
Suddenly, a shadow passed overhead. From the opposite horizon, another dragon appeared, its scales gleaming with a brilliant violet sheen. It moved with impossible speed, and before anyone could react, it crashed into the Archdemon with a force that shook the earth.
The two dragons roared as they grappled in the air, their massive wings beating furiously. The Archdemon's dark flames licked at the violet dragon's scales, while the other dragon's talons tore at the corrupted flesh of its foe. The battle between the titanic creatures was ferocious, their movements shattering the air and sending shockwaves across the battlefield.
The Darkspawn, stunned by the sudden attack, faltered. Their once-coordinated movements descended into chaos as the horde struggled to regroup. Fergus, seizing the moment, raised his sword.
"This is our chance!" he shouted. "For the Wilds, for Ferelden—attack!"
The Chasind forces surged forward with renewed vigor, their war cries echoing across the battlefield. Nira and her archers fired volley after volley into the disorganized Darkspawn, while Ruhn led his warriors in a devastating charge against their flanks.
Fergus fought at the forefront, his blade flashing as he cut down Hurlocks and Genlocks. The tide of battle shifted as the Darkspawn retreated toward the ruins of the bastion, their ranks splintering under the ferocity of the Chasind assault.
Above the battlefield, the violet dragon and the Archdemon crashed to the ground, their massive forms locked in a brutal struggle. The Archdemon's wings were tattered, one of them hanging limp from a gaping wound. The violet dragon, though wounded, pushed forward, sinking its teeth into the Archdemon's throat.
A brilliant, blinding light erupted from the Archdemon's body as it let out a final, bone-chilling roar. The light coalesced into a glowing orb that shot into the nearest Hurlock.
Fergus, panting heavily as he stood over a fallen Genlock, froze as he watched the transformation. The Hurlock suddenly moved with an eerie, human-like grace, its eyes wide with confusion. Without a word, it turned and began running toward the Frozen Wastelands. Others followed, their movements strange and uncoordinated as they fled.
As Fergus prepared to pursue the fleeing Darkspawn, the violet dragon turned its massive head toward him. He froze as a voice filled his mind, familiar and powerful.
"Not your fight, Fergus Cousland," the voice said. It was Flemeth.
The dragon's golden eyes locked onto his, and he felt the weight of her presence pressing into his thoughts. "Your task lies elsewhere. The Wilds still need you. Go."
The dragon, Flemeth, gestured with her massive head toward the remaining Chasind forces. Fergus hesitated for only a moment before nodding.
"Thank you," he murmured, though he wasn't sure she could hear him.
The violet dragon spread its battered wings, lifting off the ground with a pained roar. As it ascended, it disappeared into the night, leaving Fergus and the Chasind to face the aftermath.