At the beginning of the battle the people dispared because the opposing force was so large. Even the the Mystic of Cascadia was on their side it seemed as though the enemy was overwhelming. The fighting began at the break of dawn, and continued to the sunset. In the end the magic of the Mystic was more than the enemy could handle.

The Mystic laid on his back, completely spent from the battle. Those who fought around him stared at him in amazement. He had spent the fighting casting spells which caused the target to drop their weapons and run into the hills. Those who got close enough to him to swing a sword or ax at him were stricken with a fit of shaking that caused them to drop to the ground, foaming at the mouth. Eventually they too rose and ran into the hills.

General Zar approached the Mystic to check on him and make sure he was alright. As he neared him the Mystic sat up and greeted the general with a stricken face. “So many dead,” the Mystic said. It was clear every causality weighed on his soul.

“But there are still living, enough to rebuild and start a new.” the general said. The Mystic nodded and said, “At least there’s that. We were under the threat of being wiped from the face of the world. Now we can start over and do it right this time.”

And so it began, the rebuilding of the society that brinked on extension. In history it would go down as the beginning of the empire guided by the Mystic of Cascadia…