The giant pale being loomed over the chasm and the cowering, tiny mortals down below. The spectral thing had appeared and was attacked on sight, and when it reached its horrid claws toward the older elf who struck it, its touch sapped all life, leaving a husk in its wake.
Desperate to recover the elder elf, the younger wizard clutched the frail body in vain. The long-dead wyrm turned its transparent jaws toward the remaining elf, and as it parted those ancient fangs to release a deadly fog that ripped at the soul, a red and silver-clad figure dashed in between the two.
The glowing symbol of Helm was raised as they huddled through the fatal mists that blinded and stole memories from the past as much as they stole years from the future. Swaying in the fog, the young elf looked no different; but the Baroness of Lockwood Falls held her tower shield high even as her hair faded and frayed where she stood. Crows-feet were drawn around her eyes as she squinted through the worst the Suoress hamlet had to offer, and when she emerged from that ordeal, the elven settlers regarded her altogether differently.