The elves moved away toward the northwest, heading farther from Khemet and north of their current home. The shockwave from the destruction caused by Krarvathar had spread; the rocky area stretching ahead was cavernous underneath.
"Is this not going to stop?" asked one of the elves.
They were almost a hundred meters away, and the ground was still cracking as portions of sand collapsed.
"That attack wasn't just physical force. There was Chaos power in it. I wouldn't be surprised if the entire desert sank," replied Garhlieash, stopping atop some rocks. The tremor then ceased.
He brought his hand to the shyrdl plate. It had cracked on the side struck by the dragon's blow and had been completely destroyed below the chest when Krarvathar used his sword. Fortunately, the perforation had been healed by his companions.
"It's over," said Thswoner, also leaning on something to rest. He had never been in this state before — he had never needed to manipulate so much harphesh, especially in the final attack, when he had pushed his speed and precision to the limit.
"Is he dead, sir?" asked one of the elves. He was sitting on the sand, arms resting on his knees, head lowered.
Thswoner looked at Mlnoar. He shared the same feeling. Watching Gnaer and Hortjar's heads being destroyed by the dragon had been hard to bear.
They already had experience with death. They knew they lived to fight, that they waged war to die fighting. But after years, a warrior always wonders — even if in silence — what the value of all that is.
"It's impossible for him to be alive," the general stated. Then he turned his gaze back to the devastated scene ahead, frowning. After that, he observed the group: they were exhausted, but relieved that it was all over.
Three had died. Three of those closest to Thswoner.
"They died following the purpose of their existence," the general raised his voice, drawing the others' attention. "But we are alive, and our purpose continues. We killed the abominable creature, the fruit of an ancient evil and a profanation against life."
He adjusted his tunic, trying to shake off the sand, then took one of his sister's ties and began to tie back his dark hair.
"According to the wisest of our people, with Krarvathar's death, the other creatures will lose their strength and will. Our power will become great again, like that of our ancestors."
"Well said," Garhlieash said, smiling. His blond hair, covered in dust, swayed in the wind. "But I'm still exhausted. It shouldn't have taken that long… considering we killed him."
Thswoner looked northwest. In the distance, the sky was covered by clouds at the edge of his vision, and the dunes seemed taller in that direction.
"It shouldn't be affecting us… we're too far away," the general said.
All the elves turned toward the same point. They all knew what lay in that direction, several kilometers away.
"What do you mean?" one of them asked.
Garhlieash frowned, understanding first:
"We believed the dragon was the source of the creatures… because when he appeared, they began to emerge with greater frequency and strength…"
"But I think we were wrong," Thswoner continued, climbing onto a boulder. "The dragon himself may have been just another creature fueled by a greater source."
He paused briefly before continuing:
"And that source is there… where the elves once lived. Our ancient home."
He looked at his companions.
"We need to go there. We need to confirm."