The noise was not a sudden crash. It was the prolonged and agonizing roar of a world being swallowed alive. The massive wall of black water crested over the jagged peaks of the northern mountains. It completely blotted out the sickly grey sky. It was a continent-spanning flood. The God of Oceans had weaponized his entire domain to drown the upstart Warlord.
Ignis stood at the heavy oak doors of the manor. The ancient Dragon Strategist leaned on his wooden cane and barked sharp commands. He directed the terrified refugees out of the courtyard and down into the deep cellars. High Priestess Elara stood beside him. She held her glowing ash staff high to light the dark stone stairs leading down to the Library sub-basements. Lysandra commanded a dozen skeletal laborers to carry the heavy crates of preserved food and medical supplies. They were preparing to live in a tomb.
"Move quickly," Ignis urged the weeping farmers. "Do not stop to watch the sky. Get underground right now."
