Meanwhile, standing atop of a short hill closeby was a lone figure robed in a thick brown cloak … watching the hysteria down below.

  Vestra watched the red haired boy being chased by the horde of Zelgron, and a pang of sympathy found her. She would have tried helping him. But she knew it was completely pointless: the monsters raging behind the boy would catch up with him in seconds and tear him apart … She couldn’t possibly get him out of this mess.

  He was as doomed as he looked…

  __________