Everywhere Sunny looked, the Deathless were rising from beneath the dunes to resume their eternal battle. White sand flowed from their black bones, and its rustle fused into an eerie hum that permeated the air with a sense of primal dread.
There were truly an inconceivable number of them, covering the surface of the desert like blades of grass… or maybe like the mythical warriors who had grown from the fangs of a dragon. Before, Sunny had not spared much thought to the Deathless, perceiving them as an elemental force — no different from the Dark Sea of the Forgotten Shore or the Crushing of the Chained Isles.
Now that he was close enough to divinity to be able to imagine the calamitous horror of the Doom War, at least, he could not help but be stunned by the scale of the battle that had taken place on the endless expanse of white dunes.
