A dying sun shone valiantly across the lands of the Noxu. The ancient tree spirits watched the sky burn, hope a heavy burden on their battle-wearied hearts. The star’s fading brilliance spurred each leaf to shine bright with solidarity, gilding every edge with the most decadent gold.

The sky was streaked with the blood of its enemies, the clouds so saturated with crimson they practically dripped. But even now, on the farthest boundary, shadow lurked. That telltale streak of purple and blue could not be denied. The battle was already over. But the Noxu were still watching and they would be watching until the end.