Original subtitles

A mere week since the Realm Gate fell down.

In Hamahal Gyra, life now blooms.

Unshackled.

Uncontrolled.

Stranding the city.

And as Gyra chokes on life, Hamahal Aksha drowns

in ash.

The city of thunder.

Dying of thirst.

The essence of corruption bleeds into the earth.

A taint that spreads, grows, staining the wood and stone that formed the

city's bones.

With the severing of symbiosis between the realms of life and fire, Hamaha

will die within days.

There's more.

I see it in your eyes.

This taint.

This corruption.

It lives.

It hungers.

But to what end?

What is the source of this hunger? What does it crave?

Questions, questions.

How long must you sages study this?

When do we fight?

When we know what and where to fight, Rostus.

Be patient.

The Realm Gate is closed.

People are dying.

What else does it want?

The source of this spiritual starvation conceals itself from all eyes.

Even yours?

I offer belief, not certainty.

We have fought and triumphed more than once on faith alone.

The stain of corruption spreading beneath us, around us,

is a distraction.

A distraction from what?

From the coming flood, the greater darkness yet to brown us.

Isn't it here?

We've lost.

The city is dying.

It isn't enough.

Not for him. As the poison trickles out, the true tide

flows elsewhere.

The flow is not destroyed.

It is taken.

We direct it.

To where?

To Bellacor's infernal realm.

He plans to make the realm gate his.

He could attack from within the heart of Hamahal Aksha.

And the city's defenses would become the walls of a prison. We cannot let this

happen.

You ask much. I ask what is necessary.

And I tell you time and again.

One does not swim in the corrupted ocean unscathed. We fight according to

our gifts.

There are answers we need.

Answers only you can find.

Beware of answers, Neve Black Talon.

Has that lesson escaped you?

I do not seek the key to my past.

I seek the key to Hamahal's salvation.

Greater answers have a greater cost.

If the steepens are debt to you, then so be it.

As you wish.

Will she do it?

She will.

She knows she must.

A Jorikas.

We knew the risks.

Still, the reforging.

I am as much as I was, where it counts.

For that, I am grateful.

How does Rostas seem to you?

He has returned to us.

Diminished.

You know Rostas.

Always quick to jest.

Always a smyer.

But now, I sense an edge to him.

That abomination will pay dearly for what he has taken.

How insidious a mockery of Sigma's work will not stand.

How is such defilement possible?

It shouldn't be.

Only those of the sacrosanct chamber are privy to such arcane secrets.

We must discover how this bellicore has seen within our most sacred walls.

And what that beast said of your past.

I have been enslaved by my fears for too long.

It is time to hunt this shadow, Shekinah.

But we must first secure Hamahal.

Loroi.

I have surfaced from beneath the darkest tides.

And you have our thanks, Solskraia. To end the infection, it must be

parched at its source.

Where would that be?

Belacor's realm.

At last. When do we begin?

Don't you mean how?

This is no simple feat.

There is a way.

You must allow the infection to run its course.

Father of Storms, the Realm Gate... You plan to let the demons invade?

Hear her out, Rostas.

She speaks madness.

There is no other way?

Then we have no choice.

We need to strike at the infection's heart.

They must arrive, and they must be repulsed. That

is the moment when the tide of war sweeps them back.

In their defeat, I will create a hidden wave, one that carries you

into the core of the corruption.

And if we should fail?

Keep faith.

We let them come.

We fight. And when the moment arrives, we shall use their connection to Hamahal

against them.

Destroy it and exact our revenge upon that foul demon.

No.

There can be no we.

What do you mean?

I have not the strength to create a wave large enough for the passage of more

than one soul.

So be it.

We cannot send her alone.

Do you trust me?

You know I do, but we are the Black Talons.

We are a pack.

Rostis, my friend, do you trust me?

Aye.

I trust you.

Then let it begin.

We must inform Lord Karthalot of our plan.

Bellacor's forces will not be long in coming.

Are you ready?

This is not farewell.

It can never be.

Tire of your game, demon.

Then let us play out.

plan work?

Yes.

Chakana has made the journey.

The fate of Hammerhal is in her hands now.

I still don't like it.

Her fighting there alone.

She will not be alone for long.

We will find a way to stand with her.