Argon Künzel

Elinor, the last stronghold of the free races, waited. Argon Kuntzel, its cold commander, returned from the Canyon of Shadows with dire news: a landslide had destroyed a nest of mermaids, and their deadly toxin was already creating "purified ones." These creatures, bereft of will and hungry for flesh, were moving toward the walls.

"Hours. Maybe day," Argon's voice was steely. "They're coming this way."

The decision was desperate. To save the city, it had to be sealed off. With a dull groan, the giants piled cyclopean boulders against the main gates. Argon watched, clenching his fists until they cracked. His dark magic, sharp against his will, was useless against the blind contagion.

She appeared nearby - an elf, the headman's daughter. "Father says we're sealed like wine. But wine spoils," her whisper sounded firm.

• It's a tactic. We'll buy time. —For what? To wait until people decide the time has come for their “purification”?

She touched his hand. Argon looked at the rough stone wall, and then into her eyes, filled not with fear, but with resilience. "They think they've locked us away," he said quietly, a fire blazing in his gaze. "They're wrong. The Purified are trapped there—with us. And we'll find a way to remind them of that."

Their next battle began within these walls.