Thunder of Thanasis Rise or Fall

[Cole]

--- The Rising - The Ashen Spires ---

​

The scent of sulfur and charred stone filled the air, thick and cloying with the promise of danger. Heat radiated from the blackened ground beneath Cole’s boots, even as the rain began to fall, hissing against the smoldering rock. Thunder rolled overhead, echoing off the jagged peaks of the Ashen Spires, the volcanic range stretching high into the storm-choked sky. Rivers of molten rock cut through the terrain like veins of fire, pulsing with the life of the earth itself.

Cole let out a slow breath, steadying his pulse, though the pounding in his chest was impossible to ignore. He kept his smirk light as his golden-brown gaze flickered over the gathered competitors, each one waiting at the precipice of their fate. More than half of them would be dead within the next few hours. Some by the landscape itself, others by the creatures lurking in the dark, waiting for fresh prey. And some… some would meet their end by the very beasts they sought to claim.

The Rising was never meant to be fair.

Lightning cracked across the sky, illuminating the faces of those who dared to stand at the edge of the world and demand more. Some were tense, fists clenched, whispering prayers to gods who had never stepped foot in Thanasis. Others, like Cole, carried themselves with forced ease, masking fear beneath bravado. His fingers twitched at his sides. He had waited for this moment. Trained for it. He had to succeed. For Finn. For himself.

A distant horn bellowed, its deep call swallowed by the storm. The Rising had begun.

--- Within the City - The Main Plaza ---

​

The tremor started as a whisper beneath the streets, a gentle vibration that barely stirred the dust.

Then the earth groaned.

Stalls in the merchant's corner rattled, ceramic wares tumbling and shattering as the shaking deepened. Windows trembled in their frames. Birds took to the sky in frantic flocks. People froze, confusion twisting into fear as the ground beneath them lurched violently. The sound of cracking stone split through the air like a scream, and suddenly, the earth was breaking.

A jagged rupture tore through the heart of Thanasis, the main plaza splitting apart as if some great beast clawed its way from beneath. Buildings crumbled at the edges, toppling into the abyss. A deafening roar echoed from the darkness below, primal and ancient, a sound not heard within the city walls in a lifetime.

Then came the sounds. Clicking, scraping, a grotesque chittering that rose from the darkness of the newly-formed chasm. From the shadows, they crawled forth—hulking, eyeless figures clad in the bones of their past kills, their barbed tongues tasting the air for prey.

Jarlax.

​

The creatures surged forward, their guttural growls lost in the chaos of the panicked city. From the void, their wyvern mounts launched into the sky and shrieked, descending like death itself upon Thanasis.

The Rising had begun—but so too had something far, far worse.

"Man the walls!!"

"Light the beacons!!"

"Protect the Hatchery!!"

​

Screams filled the streets as the first bodies fell. Steel was drawn. The fight for Thanasis had begun.

 

[Synneve]

The ashen sky loomed overhead as Synneve stepped in with the others who had gathered for what might be their final hours of life. It was a barren, hopeless place. Quite apt given the occasion, she supposed. The ground beneath her perfectly not-broken-in-yet boots was cracked and dry, scorched and depressing. A gust of sulfur-laden wind brushed past her making her nose wrinkle when the acrid taste hit her.

She paused, her heart pounding relentlessly against her ribs, and closed her eyes for a fleeting moment. Breathe. You have been preparing for this moment for your entire life. She tried to soothe herself, pushing back the memory of her family's relentless expectations. Each scar she bore, each drop of sweat was a pledge against the eternity of their disappointment. A fate that she could not bear.

Her mind swirled with echoes of harsh words, the weight of a legacy steeped in failure. It was not the sting of defeat today that tormented her, no. It was the dread of an everlasting condemnation. She knew today would be the last day of her life. But it would not be her own doing that lead to such a fate. She had prepared for twenty one years. Twenty one years of obstacles, weapons training, history lessons. She knew how not to die.

But she was not built to survive.

Not like her brothers or her father. It was a miracle that her mother had survived her own Rising on being an absolute maniac, alone. Synneve, however, was unfortunately sound of mind while being given every other feature of her mother.

The Rising was not meant to be kind. Around her, others gathered- faces etched with determination and terror alike, each silently vowing to challenge and best the cruel hands of destiny. A horn bellowed from afar, its sound rolling over the scorched land like a call to battle. With a final, steadying breath, Synneve squared her shoulders and stepped forward. I will endure. She affirmed silently, eyes fixed on the fiery horizon. I will rise above.

 

[Talorgan]

Jarlax.

Talorgan stood by a market stall, frozen as he looked across the main thoroughfare at one of the creatures.

He spent most of his life in the wilds. A pursuit for a third son like himself, he documented his findings as he scouted close to the ground. He would proudly proclaim that he had more experience seeing the Jarlax up close than his kin.

That was not true. Commoners, soldiers and scouts who manned the defences of the city and wall saw them far more. Talorgan liked to boast in front of his peers who only saw them from a great distance on dragon back.

He was still unprepared to see them up close whilst wearing his finest. Biersys was far away and he had a simple formal knife at his belt.

"Fuck."

 

[Cullen]

- Borderlands - The Wall -

"The beacons are lit! They've breached the city!"

What? How?

Cullen's breath caught as the cry called across the wall, cutting through the howling wind. He had been on the front lines for weeks, pushing them back, holding the line. Not once had they broken through. The walls were manned day and night, the skies patrolled without rest. It was impossible.

And yet—

"Fall back!" The order came sharp and decisive. "The city is under attack! We return to Thanasis—now!"

Cullen didn't hesitate. He vaulted onto Meala’s back, his fingers curling tight in the leather straps as the dragon launched into the sky with a powerful beat of her wings. Around him, others followed suit, their formations shifting in practiced precision.

It wasn’t long before Thanasis loomed into view—and Cullen’s heart slammed against his ribs at the sight. Wyverns swarmed above the city, their monstrous forms silhouetted against the glow of their spreading fires. They rained destruction from above, their riders sending down torrents of flame, while Thanasis’ dragons rose up to meet them in furious battle.

His squad veered, climbing higher into the storm-churned sky to strike from above. Cullen barely registered them breaking formation—his attention was locked on the streets below, where the ground had split open like a festering wound.

The Jarlax had come from beneath the ground..

Screams carried through the air, mingling with the clash of steel and the guttural roars of beasts unleashed upon the city.

Cullen tightened his grip on Meala’s reins, jaw clenched.

"Fuck."