The Drums of Destiny

War stirred the heart of Bassoon.

Across the realm, the skies darkened with purpose, and the ground hummed beneath the weight of divine and demonic resolve. The time for waiting had ended.

Zantrayel, once a sanctuary of rising dreams, now surged with the pulse of readiness.

Its walls, strengthened by faith and fury, began the sacred march—

the city itself shifting toward the front lines,

as if Bassoon had declared: We will meet fate head-on.

From the southern flame lands, Kasa stood wreathed in fire.

The people of the Flame Serpent God, warriors forged in heat and devotion,

prepared to depart for the front, their scales and armor shimmering with volcanic light.

To the east, Kalonji, the iron tactician, led his kin in ritual silence.

Banners rose. Sigils burned. Steel kissed the wind.

Their final preparations were more than strategy—they were prophecy in motion.

And as war called, Bassoon answered