Tichondrius carefully studied the newly created Lich King as he and his compatriots hurtled through the Twisting Nether from inside the block of ice.
He could tell that Gul’dan was faithfully guiding them through the endless void toward a specific direction, occasionally making seemingly random changes to their trajectory that nobody could hope to follow. Even if a trans-dimensional ship had attempted to follow them, the ever-changing nature of the Twisting Nether would have already thrown them off.
It was a marvel that Gul’dan could so clearly sense Azeroth through this realm, and Tichondrius couldn’t help but peer closer at the Lich King as he wondered just how strong his senses had become. The spirit still cringed back from his presence in remembrance of the torture he had endured, but Tichondrius was under no illusions that the Lich King’s meekness would last forever. Once he fully realized the degree of power he had achieved, the Lich King would doubtlessly begin reasserting himself.
Oh, and what tremendous power it is…
Kil’jaeden had truly chosen well when he decided to infuse the soul of Gul’dan into the Helm of Domination. Tichondrius knew that Kil’jaeden had also been considering a powerful orc shaman by the name of Ner’zhul, who would have admittedly also been a good candidate. While Ner’zhul was a capable planner and had been in possession of powerful precognition that would have been heavily enhanced by the Helm of Domination, Gul’dan was far better for Tichondrius’ plans.
As the Lich King, Gul’dan would be far more brutally powerful and also far more vulnerable to manipulation. With his assistance, Tichondrius’ mission to spread Death across Azeroth would be far easier
“A beautiful work of art, isn’t he?” Mal’Ganis’ voice echoed through the telepathic link connecting the nathrezim. “We’ve truly outdone ourselves in his creation, haven’t we?”
“The Lich King is a weapon fit to challenge even Azeroth,” Tichondrius quickly agreed. He had seen and helped conquer many worlds, but the War of the Ancients had made it clear that Azeroth was fundamentally different. “Although he will still need some time to accumulate his forces, before we can safely challenge that world’s many powerful guardians.”
“I agree. That tiresome world has suspiciously grown more well-defended at the exact time that we wish to attack,” Mal’Ganis’ voice was neutral, but Tichondrius could sense a hint of frustration through their link. “It makes one wonder if it is truly a coincidence.”
The ongoing affairs of Azeroth were a topic of significant discussion among the nathrezim as nothing had gone as planned. It had not gone unnoticed amongst the Legion that the Aspects had become uncommonly active in recent times, almost as if they knew of the activities of the Burning Legion. Still, their information network on Azeroth was not good enough to learn much more than that.
They had successfully sent several infiltrators through the Dark Portal when it first opened, but the Aspect of Magic had since established defenses and wards that would notice all but the most subtle of demons.
“Further speculation is useless before we are able to gather more information,” said Tichondrius, ending that line of conversation. “It is impossible to know whether these new developments are the actions of Nozdormu or some other force.”
It would be unlike the Aspect of Time to so actively intervene in the timeline, but the possibility was one worth considering.
“Your time would be better spent preparing for our initial landing,” Tichondrius continued before Mal’Ganis could reply. “Unlike our initial expectations, we will be arriving on Azeroth in the middle of enemy territory. It is essential that we quickly secure a foothold before any powerful force makes note of our arrival.”
Tichondrius could clearly sense Mal’Ganis’ bloodlust through their link at the reminder of their coming battle. Although he could scheme and strategize as well as any nathrezim, Mal’Ganis had always preferred the simplicity of a straightforward slaughter.
“Indeed, I look forward to it,” Mal’Ganis responded before reining himself in. “What do you intend to do with the three brothers?”
Tichondrius turned his attention to the three remaining nathrezim, Varimathras, Balnazzar, and Detheroc. The siblings had established their own mental connection and had been in constant communication throughout their entire journey. Although the nathrezim all ultimately served the same master, it was impossible for a race as inherently deceptive as their own to not have conflicts.
As the most powerful of the nathrezim, Tichondrius was accustomed to guarding himself against those coveting his position.
“I intend to send them across Azeroth to gather information on our enemies in preparation for future plans,” Tichondrius responded truthfully after a moment of consideration. “Once we have secured our stronghold and begun building our army, we will need to ensure our enemies are too distracted to focus on us.”
Azjol-Nerub in particular had been identified as a troublesome variable. Tichondrius had only encountered a few other similar civilizations during his time with the Burning Legion, but they were always troublesome. Such an exceedingly collectivist race would be difficult to manipulate, and they would fanatically seek to destroy any threats to their people.
It would have been preferable if they could destroy Azjol-Nerub first and add them to the Lich King’s forces without any outside forces intervening, but that was no longer possible.
Fortunately, Kil’jaeden was far from a fool despite the erratic decisions he made whenever the draenei were involved and his new plan for the Lich King was truly quite cunning.
Just as Tichondrius and Mal’Ganis were about to continue their conversation, they were interrupted by the feeling of Varimathras seeking entry into their mental link.
“What is it?” Tichondrius asked once his fellow nathrezim was allowed access.
“My apologies for the interruption, but I thought that you might like to know that we have almost reached our destination,” Varimathras replied.
Tichondrius was not surprised that Varimathras would be the first to notice, as his aptitude in using Fel magic for scrying and divination afforded him better senses than most. Turning his focus to the Twisting Nether, Tichondrius quickly confirmed the truth of the claim when he felt the chaotic nature of the realm slowly begin to change to something more orderly. That was a sure sign that they were about to enter the physical realm.
“Very well then. Varimathras, you and your brothers are to begin casting spells to protect us from detection,” Tichondrius ordered, a sense of urgency filling him as they approached the only world that had ever defeated a Legion invasion. “Mal’Ganis will join you as well. I will focus my efforts on ensuring the Lich King lands us at the appropriate location.”
Once he finished relaying his orders, Tichondrius sensed agreement from his fellow nathrezim, along with a significant amount of excitement. The prospect of finally making their move after so much meticulous planning was as intoxicating to them as it was to him.
After they retreated from the link, Tichondrius turned his attention once again to Gul’dan. The former orc warlock exuded a heady mixture of fear, anger, and undiluted hatred. Not only toward his wardens, but also to the world on which he had died and denied him his so-called ‘destiny.’ Death magic more potent than Tichondrius had ever felt in the living realm wrapped around Gul’dan like a cloak, dancing and flickering as though eager to break free from the Lich King’s icy prison and unleash his wrath.
The sight was nothing short of awe-inspiring. In many ways, Gul’dan was the perfect harbinger of doom that they were to bring upon Azeroth.
With a resonating mental command, Tichondrius addressed the Lich King. “Prepare yourself, Gul’dan. We are nearing the threshold. Properly reaching our destination will require a great deal of accuracy.”
The Lich King responded with a silent affirmation, the magic swirling around him intensifying with anticipation for what was to come.
An intricate web of spells, each more powerful than most mortal mages could begin to comprehend, soon enveloped their icy vessel when his fellow nathrezim finished their casting. Tichondrius studied the spells and decided that they would be sufficient for hiding them long enough to establish their stronghold.
Outside their vessel, the Twisting Nether began to thin, the chaotic reality-bending dimension giving way to the more solid existence of the physical realm. Gradually, they started to see the vague outlines of the world that had eluded them for so long through the cracks in reality. The energies of the Twisting Nether coalesced around them, forming a sphere of fluctuating magic. Time seemed to stand still for a moment, and then with a sound like the universe itself taking a sharp intake of breath, reality buckled and shifted.
We have arrived.
Azeroth was spread out beneath them, a world of lush forests, towering mountains, and shimmering oceans. A world teeming with life and hope serenely floating in the black sea of space.
A world they would soon lay to waste.
“You know where to land, Gul’dan,” Tichondrius said, watching the planet grow larger before them. “Our target should be somewhere in the South Sea.”
“I can sense it,” the Lich King responded for the first time since he had been remade. His voice was like the sound of a hundred souls wailing in torment. “There are souls there, hidden under a layer of deceptive magic.”
“Then it is as Kil’jaeden said. It is unique magic, but not strong enough to deter us. I will cast the spell to peer through it once we grow closer,” Tichondrius immediately responded.
The Lich King responded with another feeling of acknowledgement and growing anticipation.
It wasn’t long before they were surrounded by a fiery halo that signified their entry into Azeroth’s atmosphere. If not for the many spells hiding them from view, Tichondrius had no doubt that their descent would be leaving behind a brilliant streak of fire and shadow. Despite the intense heat, the ice that encased the Lich King remained utterly unaffected.
Once he judged them to be close enough, Tichondrius focused his mind as he drew upon eons of accumulated knowledge before carefully weaving a spell of Arcane and Fel magic that would greatly enhance his vision. As he finished casting the spell and felt it begin to take hold, Tichondrius turned his attention to the approaching waters and searched for their destination.
It took him several moments, but Tichondrius was eventually able to spot their target. It was a small dot of land in an otherwise wide open sea.
A small dot of land that was moving.
“There it is, Gul’dan,” Tichondrius said as he cast a spell to share his vision with the Lich King. “The beginning of our new empire lies waiting.”
Tichondrius could feel Gul’dan begin to grow excited as the landmass came into view. “Yes… I can feel them. So many lives ready to be ended. Ready to become my soldiers…”
Tichondrius felt a hint of amusement at how easily Gul’dan was distracted by the slightest hint of power. He was glad to see that the orc’s insatiable ambition had not been broken by their torture. It would make him both easier to manipulate and more dangerous to the defenders of Azeroth.
Seeing that Gul’dan needed no more guidance, Tichondrius established a mental link with his fellow nathrezim. “Prepare yourselves. We will need to both slaughter the locals and take control of the creature as quickly as possible.”
The nathrezim all signaled their readiness. Mal’Ganis in particular seemed eager to unleash his power on the unsuspecting mortals of Azeroth. As they drew closer, Tichondrius was soon able to make out more features of their destination. It was a verdant and peaceful island floating in the seas of Azeroth, filled with mountains and several large mortal buildings that blended perfectly with the surrounding nature. However, none of these features were the most interesting aspect of the island.
No, that belonged to the being of unimaginable size on whose shell the entire island existed. It was an enormous turtle, at least several miles long and with eyes that shone with wisdom. Tichondrius could sense that the creature was intensely magical, and could one day become an entity similar to the Wild Gods that had fought the Burning Legion during their first invasion.
However, its fate was not to be a defender of Azeroth. It was to become a mobile fortress upon which the Lich King could build an army that would upend this world.
Not only would the creature allow them to ravage any coastal settlements to build up their forces, but its powerful soul would be able to fuel a very formidable concealment spell. So long as they constructed a barrier around its shell, they would even be able to delve beneath the sea and hide within Azeroth’s massive oceans. The Lich King’s armies would become an ever growing tide of undeath capable of attacking anywhere and leaving before the defenders of Azeroth could organize a defense.
Truly, Kil’jaeden could not have chosen a more perfect location
When they were close enough for Tichondrius to make out the sight of unaware mortals going about their meaningless lives, the behemoth seemed to sense their approach. It turned its gaze toward them, and for a moment, Tichondrius could see a hint of fear and surprise in its eyes. Unfortunately, he couldn’t savor the moment for long before they crashed into the creature’s back with the force of a meteorite.
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The impact sent a shockwave across the island, instantly decimating a portion of the lush landscape and gouging out a portion of flesh from the behemoth. Gul’dan was quick to release an overwhelming wave of Death magic that spread out over the rest of the beast, causing the wound to rot and remaining plant life to wither. Tichondrius knew that everywhere on the island, any buried dead would be rising to kill the living as newly formed servants of the Lich King.
The creature let out a bellow of anguish, shaking the entire island as it thrashed in pain.
Now safe to do so, Tichondrius and the other nathrezim emerged from the Lich King’s icy prison, their forms shifting as they became physical once more. When he fully emerged, Tichondrius took in the scene around him. A river of rotten blood and flesh flowed from the wound that they had created, the once verdant landscape now a desolate wasteland withering under the Lich King’s power.
They had landed away from any mortals, but Tichondrius could already hear screams of terror and confusion in the distance from the indigenous mortals. The sound was a pleasant one, but Tichondrius had no intention of allowing himself to become distracted.
“Balnazzar, Detheroc, and Varimathras, I want you to prepare the ritual necessary to construct the barrier,” Tichondrius ordered, speaking out loud now that they had no need for a mental link. The three brothers nodded and immediately began preparing the necessary ritual. “Mal’Ganis, I want you to focus on killing the behemoth so that Gul’dan can raise the creature into undeath. I will focus on destroying any mortal resistance.”
Mal’Ganis grinned, his eyes shining with a dangerous light. “As you wish.”
Turning to the rotting wound, Mal’Ganis released a stream of Fel fire that ate away at its flesh, slowly creating a tunnel that would allow access into the beast’s organs. Tichondrius nodded with approval before turning his gaze to the Lich King, whose icy prison was beginning to spread over his surroundings.
“Gul’dan, continue to raise any who die and kill any remaining plant life,” said Tichondrius, as he began making his way toward the nearest concentration of mortals. “It won’t be long before any mortal resistance begins to starve and this entire island falls under your control. I will of course help them along.”
“With pleasure.”
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As he swung his staff into the skull of another ravenous undead, Chen Stormstout hoped with all his might that everything he was seeing was a horrible dream.
He hoped that he was truly just sleeping somewhere in an alcohol induced haze. If he could just wake up to discover that everything he had seen was not real, then Chen Stormstout would be willing to swear to the August Celestials themselves to never drink another drop of alcohol. He would become the most dutiful disciple that Master Shang Xi could ever hope for and dedicate his life to the betterment of his people.
Anything, if only he could wake up from this nightmare.
But as another wave of undead surged toward him, Chen had to accept that he was not dreaming.
It had been several hours since he had been suddenly awoken by a cataclysmic shaking and the deafening sound of Shen-zin Su wailing in agony. Before Chen could understand what was happening, a tide of magic more evil than anything Chen had ever encountered passed over the island. It caused him to feel sick to his stomach as the Pei-Wu Forest, where he had fallen asleep, began to wither and die all around him.
Then… the dead began to rise. Generations of pandaren who had peacefully been laid to rest on the back of Shen-zin Su were now rising from their graves. Their rotting flesh and vacant eyes were a grotesque mockery of the life they once held. Worst of all, they were not mindless. Whatever evil entity resurrected and controlled them showed coordination as the undead spread out to and attack the living. Their numbers kept growing in size as each innocent life was taken.
Unable to believe his eyes, Chen had immediately grabbed his staff and helped escort as many civilians as he could to the Temple of Five Dawns. From there, Master Shang Xi had begun to organize a defense and prepare an expeditionary group to search for the source of the calamity that had befallen them… until the voice of Shen-zin Su himself echoed across the island.
“Children of Liu Lang… I have been struck… by an entity of unimaginable evil and power,” The Great Turtle’s had said, his exhausted voice in so much pain that it hurt Chen to even listen to it. “They seek to kill me… they seek to raise me into undeath… I fear… that I am dying… you cannot resist. Flee before it is too late.”
Thinking back on that moment, Chen Stormstout wished that he had listened. He and several of the other disciples rebelled in outrage when Master Shangxi proclaimed that they would be abandoning their home on the backs of their dragon turtles. Instead, they had organized a group to find the source of this evil and destroy it. They had made significant progress on their way to the Wood of Staves where the vile entity was located.
That changed when an enormous, furless being with batlike wings and curled horns emerged from the tide of undead and began slaughtering them like animals. Every one of their attacks was either blocked by impenetrable barriers or managed to strike only illusions before the creature retaliated with terrifying magic and monstrous strength.
Now, the half of them that had survived were running for their lives after Elder Shaopai stayed behind to delay the creature.
“Stormstout!” Chen was pulled from his thoughts as a fissure of earth opened beneath the approaching undead before swiftly crushing them.
Chen turned to see his fellow disciple, Strongbo destroying undead one after another with strong fists. “Now isn’t the time to daydream, you fool!”
“Right,” Chen managed to say, pushing back the rising despair as he spotted another group of undead. Quickly channeling his Chi, Chen opened his mouth and released a stream of fire that incinerated the approaching abominations.
A few of the undead monks managed to agilely leap over the flames, but they displayed only a fraction of the martial arts skill they had possessed in life, and Chen was soon able to destroy them. After he dodged beneath the fist of the last undead, a fellow disciple he had shared drinks with just a few weeks ago and crushed their skull with his staff, Chen turned to his surviving allies.
“This cannot continue! We must retreat to the Temple,” Chen said to his fellow disciples. “Master Shang Xi was right. We can’t hope to defend against this onslaught for long. We have to flee.”
“No! We cannot abandon Shen-zin Su!” cried Yinli Firepaw. Her eyes which were usually full of life and mirth were now wide with fear. “We cannot allow our home to become an abomination of undead! We must fight!”
“We did fight, and we lost within moments!” Chen yelled as he remembered the sight of skilled warriors becoming dozens of undead or being killed by that winged monster. “Wherever these monsters came from, they are far beyond our ability to handle! Shen-zin Su stopped thrashing nearly an hour ago and is barely alive! Once he dies and is turned into an undead, they will merely need to order him underwater, and we will all drown!”
Chen Stormstout watched as the hopelessness of their situation dawned on them. If they had a defensible position and the chance to properly organize, they might have been able to defend for a significant amount of time against the undead. However, their enemies had no reason to fight fairly. The moment Shen-zin Su died, no amount of bravery or cleverness would be able to save them from joining him.
“Chen is right,” Strongbo finally spoke up, his voice echoing in the silence that had descended over them. “We’ve done everything that we can, but we cannot hope to hold on once the enemy turns the very land beneath our feet against us. We must put as much space between ourselves and Shen-zin Su before that happens, or they will simply chase us down.”
Chen could tell that nobody wished to admit it, but there was nothing they could say to counter the statement. After a few more moments of discussion, everyone agreed to begin making their way north toward Wu Song Village where Master Shang XI intended to escort the civilians.
As they traveled north at their fastest pace, Chen and his fellow disciples were forced to face isolated groups of undead attacking them at every opportunity. They were more than able to hold their own, but these constant interruptions slowed them down considerably. Not only that, but it soon became apparent to Chen that it wasn’t only pandaren who were being turned into undead abominations.
Birds, snakes, and every woodland creature that lived on the island were attacking them with vicious ferocity. Chen even spotted a fully grown tiger being devoured by a swarm of insects, only to be raised into undeath itself. It was then that Chen realized the full scope of the horror they faced.
Every living creature on Shen-zin Su was being turned into an instrument of death.
They continued their retreat with heavy hearts, utilizing their Chi to move at extreme speeds and avoid as many undead as they could. They had only traveled for a few more minutes when an eerie hiss filled the air, followed by a mournful guttural groan. A cluster of massive serpent-like figures suddenly rose from the decaying underbrush, their glowing eyes a horrifying shade of blue.
Undead cloud serpents. The majestic sky dancing creatures that every pandaren on the Wandering Isle used to marvel at now twisted into horrifying monsters.
“Get ready!” Chen shouted, bracing himself for their inevitable attack. There were far too many of the creatures for them to survive without casualties, but Chen had every intention of fighting with all he had.
Just as the undead abominations swooped down from the sky toward them, streaks of crackling jade lightning seared through the air, tearing into the serpents’ decaying bodies. The horde of undead creatures were wiped out almost instantly, their bodies collapsing into dust and dispersing on the wind.
A figure emerged from the nearby brush. Chen’s heart filled with relief and hope as he recognized the figure of Master Shangxi, dressed in his typical azure robes and carrying his familiar curved wooden staff. The elderly monk’s body was filled with obvious grief and exhaustion, but his eyes held a steady determination that bolstered the resolve of every disciple present.
“Master Shangxi!” Yinli exclaimed, joy evident in her voice. “Thank the Celestials that you’re here!”
Master Shang Xi smiled warmly at them, managing to soothe their fears for even a moment. “I am relieved to see you are all alive. When you ran off toward the source of this evil, I feared the worse.”
“I’m relieved to see you too, Master, but we must leave at once,” said Chen, urgently interrupting their reunion. “When we went to face the enemy, we encountered a creature of unimaginable power. It slaughtered half of us within minutes and was only barely held back by Elder Shaopai. There’s no telling when it will return.”
Master Shangxi nodded solemnly and was about to respond until he suddenly frowned and turned his attention toward the west. “I’m afraid… that it seems to already be here.”
Chen followed Master Shangxi’s gaze and felt the hope that had been building up inside of him instantly extinguish. From the west, a dark figure accompanied by a tide of undead was marching toward them. It was the same creature that had decimated their group earlier, with its monstrous size and towering wingspan standing high above the undead following its path.
“We have to run!” Strongbo urged, panic seeping into his voice. “Master, we can’t fight that thing! It’s too strong!”
Chen turned his gaze back to Master Shangxi, expecting to see the same determined eyes that he had seen before. Instead, the elderly monk’s expression was a mixture of despair and sorrow, before soon becoming one of calm acceptance. It took only a single moment for Chen to understand Master Shangxi’s intentions.
“No! Master, you can’t stay beh—”
“Be quiet,” Master Shangxi interrupted, silencing his disciple with a single stern gaze. The elder monk then turned to address all of them, his voice steady as ever despite their approaching doom.
“My disciples, you have all fought well and bravely. You have all followed the teaching of Liu Lang, and I could not be more proud of you. But Strongbo is right. The strength of our foe is beyond anything I have ever felt, and the time has come when we as protectors must make difficult decisions for the sake of our people.”
Chen and his fellow disciples listened in horror, their words sticking in their throats as they realized what their teacher was suggesting.
“Go, my students. Escort our people away from this place and warn the world of what has happened here. With Shen-zin Su under their control, these monsters will have no trouble passing through the mists that protect Pandaria. Leave here and ensure that our culture, our teachings, and our legacy continue on in this world.”
Chen stepped forward, his voice cracking with emotion. “Master Shangxi… you can’t—”
“Enough, Chen!” Master Shangxi firmly silenced him once again. “If even the smallest part of you respects me as a teacher, then you will do as I say. I will not watch any more of my students die on this day!”
Seeing the resolve in his master’s eyes, Chen was left speechless. The silence that fell over them was broken only by the sounds of the approaching undead.
“Chen, listen to me,” said Master Shangxi, his tone softening as his gaze filled with warmth and pride. “I have watched you grow into the amazing young monk that stands before me. No matter how many of my lessons you skipped, I’ve always seen the potential for greatness within you. Our people need all of you if they are to survive. Now go. We do not have time for long farewells.”
With eyes that stung with unshed tears, Chen bowed deeply in respect to Master Shangxi. Strongbo and the others joined him, giving their own bows to the elder monk. After several moments, they honored their teacher’s wishes and began sprinting north toward Wu Song Village. As they ran, Chen couldn’t help but look back one last time.
He saw the moment that Master Shangxi placed his palms together and used one of the rare feats achievable by master monks. Chen watched in amazement as Master Shangxi split his body into three separate elemental copies of himself, each of them controlling the powers of Storm, Earth, and Fire. The three elemental beings charged into the undead horde, laying waste to them with fists that shook the earth, blades that set them ablaze, and winds that cut their decayed flesh to pieces.
The last thing that Chen saw, before he lept over a hill and his Master disappeared from sight, was the annoyed grimace of the horned monster as it began casting some foul spell.
The rest of their journey was quiet, aside from the occasional sound of weeping. It didn’t take long for them to reach Wu Song village, and Chen was greatly relieved to see that it was still standing. The village was built right next to their training grounds, so they must have received help fairly quickly.
As they approached, they saw the remaining monks helping to organize the evacuation of the civilians. Chen saw men, women, and children being helped onto the backs of dragon turtles before being led over the edge of Shen-Zin Su’s shell. It was a steep drop, so many of the civilians had to be cajoled to take the plunge. Although dragon turtles were the mount of choice for their people, they did not have enough for everyone so multiple people were assigned to each one.
Knowing they had no time to waste, Chen and his fellow disciples rushed to help, running through the village to find any stragglers and calming the frightened children as they boarded the dragon turtles. Chen was relieved to hear that his family had been among the first to go. They tried to stay and wait for him, but the monks had known that they could not tolerate any such delays.
Chen wasn’t sure how long this went on, but only stopped when he felt that land beneath him begin to shake. With dawning horror, he looked over the edge of Shen-zin Su and saw the Great Turtle beginning to glow with the evil magic that had destroyed their home.
“We must go, now!” Chen yelled out over the commotion. A panic quickly took over the crowd as they realized what was happening, and the few that still remained hurried to jump over the edge into the waiting sea.
It was only when the last civilian was properly evacuated that the monks themselves began to follow them. Just as Chen was about to do so himself, he stumbled as he heard a loud explosion from the direction that they had left behind Master Shangxi. Although he was far too distant to sense what had happened, something deep within told Chen that his Master had passed on.
“Chen, let’s go,” said Strongbo as he hurried over to Chen and placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “We can only avenge Master Shangxi if we are alive.”
Chen turned to Strongbo and saw deep grief in the eyes of his closest friend. In a single day, their entire lives had been upended from one of peaceful training to one of tragedy.
With a decisive nod, Chen took one last look behind him before channeling his Chi and leaping away from the only home he had ever known. Moments after he crashed into the salty water below. A dragon turtle carrying several other monks hurried to his side and began frantically dragging them away from Shen-zin Su.
Chen had no idea where they were going as everyone was fleeing in separate directions to make it more difficult for the monsters to hunt them down. If they stuck together in a single group, it wouldn’t take more than a few flaps of Shen-zin Su’s enormous limbs to catch up to them. They would reunite if possible, but the only way for some of them to survive and warn the world what had happened was for them to go their separate ways.
Chen channeled his Chi and held his breath as the dragon turtle dove beneath the waves. It was only when they needed to come back up for air nearly ten minutes later that Chen was able to see what had become of his home.
The Great Turtle was slowly beginning to move once again, his eyes glowing with an eerie blue light that filled him with dread. Every hint of life on his shell had withered away and been replaced with the decayed frozen aftermath of what was once a vibrant landscape. Shen-zin Su’s shell looked more like a graveyard than the paradise it once was. A barrier of foul green magic began to rise around the shell, closing it off from the outside world and trapping anyone who had not already escaped within.
As the dragon turtle continued to swim away as fast as possible, Chen caught a final glimpse of Shen-zin Su’s massive body submerging beneath the waves before completely vanishing from sight.