In the shelter, the battle against Destruction's army was fierce and unrelenting just like what they had thought when it all started.
Dark mist poured from the portal in the sky, coalescing into monstrous forms that rained down like a black storm. The shelter army, a diverse assembly of survivors and allies, stood ready to face the onslaught. They are a whole army gathered from across the realms.
Aerathorn with his eagle-like agility moved swiftly through the battlefield. His bow sang as he loosed arrows with unerring accuracy, each shot felling a foe.
When the enemies closed in, he drew his twin swords, cutting through them with precision and grace.
Elara the leader of the Frostborn Elves commanded her warriors with a calm, authoritative presence. Her people fought with a fierce determination, their ice-infused weapons glinting in the darkened sky.
Arrows of frost flew, spears and swords clashed, and magical barriers of ice shielded their comrades.
