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The expedition charged valiantly at the almighty tree that taunted El Nath with a bleek, uncertain future. The alloys of our piercing arrows and bladed weaponry were deflected off the rocky, ancient exterior of the unworldly sentinel. The magicians bent and manipulated the very environment that filled us all with uncertainty in hopes that the elements would work in their favour. We were suffering from the casualties and my powers could only sustain so many injured soldiers.

The intense heats that overwhelmed the citadel of Zakum finally took its toll and eventually, we were declining in morale. I felt it - soldiers in scorned armour rested upon the rocks with looks of hopelessness. It certainly created on atmosphere of doubt; what if we couldn't finish this?

This was it. My hands could no longer grip onto the staff that provided the little hope these vibrant, youthful soldiers needed. They were fighting a war that they couldn't quite understand but for the sake of adventure, it was worth it.

But was it?

And then... it happened. My staff lit up and I saw it. The hope we were all convinced was gone. My staff transformed into a bow; crafted from the spirits that relied on those of us that paid with our innocence and, some of us, our lives. The spirits of the past, present and future. An single arrow, crafted by those whose power far exceeded mortal comprehension, rested in my empty hand.

I cradled it between the bow frame and string and pulled back with the strength of the gods. All I could do was smile.

"I've finally learned Angel Ray"