The starry sky trembled under the weight of magic as two powerful factions clashed for dominance. The Arcane Council, masters of spells and manipulation, stood against Que e Sus Amos, the forest warriors whose magic intertwined with reality itself. As the mist of illusions and leaves lifted, the battle commenced.
The Sylvaneth attempted to raise their sacred grove, but the spell faltered. Despite this setback, their warriors surged forward, roots and branches weaving around their movements as they prepared for battle.
Shinxyrl responded with precise sorcery. The mighty hands of their spellcasters wove Shield of Fate, a veil of destiny shielding their warriors from the inevitable strikes of their foes. The Thousand-Eye Legion and their allies moved into advantageous positions, and at the end of the clash, the wizards once more summoned Shield of Fate, bracing for the next onslaught.
The Sylvaneth tried once more to call upon their grove, this time successfully. The ethereal aura of the forest allowed their forces to advance unseen, emerging through the mist.
Shinxyrl attempted another Shield of Fate, but the spell failed. Regardless, their warriors pressed forward. The greatweapons withdrew, waiting for the right moment to strike. The Curseling attempted to unleash a devastating magical projectile, but the spell dissipated into the air.
Then came the turning point—discs tore through the enemy lines and crashed into the Revenants. The Aetherwing Raiders on their demonic mounts stormed the battlefield, annihilating the Revenants and shattering their resistance. At the end of the clash, the shaman unleashed a Bolt of Tzeentch, striking the Greatswords and wounding one of them, disrupting their formation.
In the murky twilight of the battlefield, Sylvaneth magic surged once more. A final desperate attempt to fortify their defenses led to yet another conjured grove, while the Greatswords attempted to rally, reforming into a disciplined battle stance. The Arcane Council responded with another Shield of Fate, this time protecting the Thousand-Eye Legion.
The Sylvaneth struck back. Greatswords clashed with the Thousand-Eye Legion, their massive blades cleaving deep into enemy ranks. Velmoras, however, surged forward, wreathed in arcane power, tearing into the Greatswords—two fell to his devastating assault.
The Arcane Council retaliated with another Bolt of Tzeentch, striking both Hunters and Greatswords. The arcane energy shattered the last surviving Greatsword, and his emberstone fell to the ground. Another attempt to cast Shield of Fate failed.
Meanwhile, the Gossamid Archers retreated into the shadows, drawing their bows once more. A volley of enchanted arrows rained upon the larger discs, piercing their ethereal forms and dealing the first real wounds to the Arcane Council’s forces.
With the battle escalating, the last Twilight Harbinger tore through the archers, scattering them like leaves in the wind. Victorious, it set its sights on the Brandwych, who had been holding back, guarding something of importance. At first, the blows failed to land decisively, but as the battle progressed, the Brandwych faltered. With a final strike, the disc felled her, seizing her emberstone. As if responding to this momentous event, an Emberstone Cluster erupted from the earth nearby, crackling with latent power.
Sensing the shift in fate, the Dryads and the last Hunter sought vengeance for their fallen priestess. Yet, according to the grand design of Tzeentch, the time had not yet come for the final disc to fall. Guided by divine intervention, it evaded every attack or withstood the blows with unnatural resilience. As the battle raged on, Shinxyrl, master of fate, turned his gaze upon the newly emerged Emberstone Cluster, moving swiftly to extract its power. With precision and mastery, he succeeded, claiming the emberstone for himself.
Meanwhile, the last Twilight Harbinger continued its desperate fight, resisting the relentless assaults of the Hunter. But fate, even under Tzeentch’s watchful eye, could not be denied forever. The ceaseless swarms of Dryads finally overwhelmed it, striking it down. As it fell, its emberstone tumbled to the ground, its once-great power now ripe for the taking.
The battlefield grew silent, the echoes of war fading into the ether. Both armies, battered and weary, began their withdrawal. The Sylvaneth, though wounded, still held to their vengeance, their spirits burning with a lingering fury. Yet it was the Arcane Council who stood in a better position, their strategic might and manipulations leaving them with the upper hand. As the last remnants of their forces vanished into the shifting winds of fate, one thing remained certain—the machinations of Tzeentch were far from over, and the game of destiny had only just begun...