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The world roared as the storm raged.
Winds tore across the ruined land, grinding earth and air together and sweeping everything away. The Tower Master was no exception. The barrier he had barely managed to raise shattered like glass. The storm chewed through his robes and gnawed at his bones; several fingers splintered outright, white fragments tearing free and spinning away into the gale.
He groaned, voice rough with strain. “Kh…”
“Oh,” the White Serpent observed, its eyes gleaming with faint surprise. “You endured my attack.”
It tilted its colossal head, amusement glinting in the cold white of its scales.
“You are reasonably useful,” it said. “Consider this. Even now, you can enter my service. Become my slave. You will hold the glory of being my first.”
“Utter nonsense,” the Tower Master replied, every word a rasp.
Inwardly, he cursed. Ketal had told him that if they ever faced monsters from legend, he would manage well enough. All of that had been empty comfort. The gap between him and this monster was overwhelming.
The White Serpent chuckled, a sound like boulders rolling together.
“Then that is a pity,” it said. “You will be my meal instead.”
Its body undulated. The storm howled with renewed fury. Shattered stone rose like a cloud of knives. The Tower Master pulled one artifact after another from within his robe. These were items he had hoarded in secret since the war, tools he had never reported to anyone. Counting their combined value, he could have purchased a third...
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