The Drought's Hunger

The Vor'talon of Drought let out another roar, its eyes shining with evil energy. A group of Detherborn were engulfed in a swirling vortex of sand as it erupted from the ground in a geyser. Their cries were drowned out by the fierce wind as they were torn to pieces, nourishing the horrifying creature with their very being.

"We need to focus its attacks!" Rhaegar boomed, his voice barely audible over the deafening roar of the sandstorm. "Res, use your wind magic to disrupt its balance!"

Res, with a stern expression on her face, released a flurry of wind blades. The blades struck the leg of the sand knight, creating grooves in its sandy skin. However, the monster showed little reaction as it swung its huge fist in her direction.

Andre, his heart hammering in his chest, lunged forward. Revenant, his sentient blade, pulsed with a faint blue light. "It's weak to water, Andre!" the sword boomed in his mind, its voice a comforting rumble. "But be careful, its sand can absorb moisture!"

He turned to Res. "Res, use your water magic, its weak to water and share to the rest". He said his voice echoing.

With a desperate yell, Res channeled her water magic, summoning a torrent of water that slammed into the sand knight's fist. The water hissed and evaporated before it could even reach the creature's core, but for a precious moment, it disrupted its attack. Res, using the momentary opening, launched herself into the air, dodging the sand knight's counterblow by a hair's breadth.

Out of nowhere, a dazzling light burst from behind the sand knight. Seraph, with his shiny silver armor shining brightly, floated in the air with his wings spread wide. However, unlike the fiery wings of the other Detherborn, his wings were crafted from sparkling crystal, reflecting the intense sunlight in a vibrant array of dangerous hues.

"Crystal Dragon Magic: Cyvilus Tempea!" Seraph roared, his voice echoing with power.

His hands glowed with a crystalline light. Magic triangles appeared around him and on the floor where the Vor'talon stood. Seraph touched one of the triangles and a shard erupted from the ground impaling the Vor'talon in the leg. The creature shrieked in fury, its emerald eyes focusing on the new threat.

"Don't underestimate it!" Andre yelled, charging towards the sand knight's legs with a renewed burst of speed. "It might be weaker than the others, but it's still a Vor'talon!"

Drake, with his legion swirling with steel, did the same. Their swords, imbued with Res's water powers, sliced through the ground, leaving shimmering cuts in their wake. However, the injuries appeared to mend rapidly, with the sand merging back together as if it were alive.

The war continued with intensity. Using their divine abilities, the Detherborn unleashed assaults on the sand knight. Andre and Drake, using their blades infused with water, fiercely attacked the legs of the giant creature in an attempt to defeat it.

However, the Vor'talon of Drought retaliated with intense rage stemming from a sense of hopelessness. Crushing soldiers and Detherborn alike, its fists covered in sand slammed down. Sandstorms suddenly burst out, briefly causing blindness and confusion in the attackers. The creature's evil power made the air crackle, draining their bodies of moisture and leaving them dry and struggling to breathe.

There was a fissure. A small crack extended through Vor'talon's chest, in the exact spot where Seraph's magical crystal hit. It was subtle, scarcely detectable, but it existed. A sparkle of optimism.

With brand new determination, they launched a final assault. Andre slammed his fist to the ground and the grimoire of Shadows appeared with a magic circle. It levitated and opened infront of him to the spell he needed. He gripped Revenant, and it shone with a white light.

"Sync your core with my grimoire and surround yourself with the dark energy emitting from it" he commanded.

"Alright " Revenant boomed.

Revenant was surrounded by a dark ominous aura. The Grimoire released a burst of dark energy to Revenant and it shone with a bright purple light.

"Damn, the power from the Grimoire is immense, but I can hold it" strained Revenant.

Good, now for the next step. He looked at the grimoire and it floated to his side. The words of the spell floated around Revenant.

The spikes on the hilt opened and it pricked his hand, drawing blood. But Andre didn't feel it, his adrenaline was already spiking.

He raised his hand and chanted the spell, Umblex Dominatius.

Revenant hummed with great power.

"Umblex Dominatus: Phanam Strika"

The dark aura surrounded Revenant and the marks and runes on his neck glowed. The rune on Revenant glowed with ferocious intensity. Then he swung Revenant in a horizontal arc.

A blinding green light engulfed them, throwing them all back. When the light faded, the sand knight was gone. In its place lay a swirling vortex of emerald energy, the essence of the defeated Vor'talon.

Andre, his body aching and his throat raw, watched as Rhaegar soared towards the vortex. With a mighty roar, the Detherborn leader plunged his flaming sword into the swirling green energy. The vortex screamed, a sound that chilled Andre to the bone. Then, with a final, earsplitting shriek, it dissipated, leaving behind only a faint green mist that slowly drifted away on the desert wind.

The battle was over. The Vor'talon of Drought was defeated.The battle was over. Or so they thought.

The ruined castle grounds fell into silence, in stark contrast to the chaos of battle not long ago. Andre, with ragged breathing and his body protesting loudly, collapsed against a deteriorating wall. He experienced a mouthful of sand's flavor, causing a dizzy spell to come over him. Blurred vision, he still witnessed Rhaegar descending from the sky with his fiery wings beating slowly.

Andre felt a sudden twinge of discomfort in his stomach. Rhaegar's typical calm expression morphed into a frown of intense worry. He came down hard next to Andre, speaking in a deep rumbling voice.

"It's… not gone."

Andre's blood ran cold. "What do you mean? I"… I destroyed it, right?"

Rhaegar shook his head, a plume of ash swirling around his feet. "Not quite. Vor'talons don't die easily. You've merely… weakened it. It's retreated, back into the desert sands to lick its wounds."

"Fuck" he yelled.

They had fought so hard, sacrificed so much, only for a temporary victory.

Seraph, his crystal wings dulled and his armor scratched, materialized beside them. "How long before it returns?" he asked, his voice laced with exhaustion.

Rhaegar's gaze swept across the devastation - the fallen soldiers, the Detherborn nursing their wounds, the sand-encrusted ruins of the castle. "Hard to say," he finally admitted. "But it will. Vor'talons are like parasites, feeding off the suffering and despair of the land. This drought… it's its fuel."

Andre felt a surge of anger. So this wasn't over, not by a long shot. They might have bought some time, but the real fight, the fight to heal the land and starve the Vor'talon of its power, was just beginning. He glanced out over the vast desert, a desolate landscape that stretched as far as the eye could see. A single question hung heavy in the air – could they truly save the Bloodsand Kingdom from a foe that thrived on its misery?