The city of Lysora burned in chaos, its once-pristine streets awash with the glow of roaring flames and the deafening screams of its citizens.
The Dunmals, grotesque monstrosities with shark-like features, tore through the heart of the city, their webbed hands smashing through walls and their gaping maws eager to devour. Their scales gleamed under the flickering light of destruction, their predatory forms weaving through the smoke like phantoms of death.
In the midst of the carnage, a young girl clutched a seashell necklace tightly in her trembling hands, her small frame darting through the rubble-strewn streets. Her sobs mixed with her ragged breaths as the sound of wet, guttural snarls grew louder behind her. A Dunmal was in pursuit, its enormous maw wide open, rows of jagged teeth glinting hungrily as it lunged for her.
