Prologue

Branar cupped his hand over his brow, blocking the morning sun from his vision as he
watched over the encampments before him.

Here, in a place no longer on any map, the remainder of the once great tribe known as
the Skrall made camp, and it was not much to see. A dozen motorized chariots were lined
up on the sands, ready to move into action when ready, while the remaining Skrall
soldiers trained in groups. It was a mere echo of the conquering warrior clan they had
once been, and a sign of how much they had lost.

“Branar,” came the voice of Stronius, the bulky elite who led the Skrall alongside them.
“Anything to report?”

Branar sighed, leaning against the rock wall of the cliff behind him. Since Tuma’s
defeat, he and Stronius had often butted heads over how best to lead the Skrall, the
right of leadership left between the two of them. They had only agreed on one attack, a
spontaneous assault as the two giants of metal battled in the sky. The day had not been
victorious for the Skrall, and left them only more scattered than before.

“Nothing,” Branar reported. “Nothing at all.”

“Fah,” Stronius replied, staring off into the distance. “There’s been nothing to report
in ages. No enemy encampments, no reports from our scouts, nothing. If the Glatorian had
any honor, they would track us down and stamp us out.”

“Be grateful that they don’t,” Branar shot back. “We have been humiliated twice now. As
much as the words burn my tongue, their mercy is all that has spared us from a grisly
death.”

Stronius grumbled. “Better a death at their hands than at the hands of the desert heat,”
he muttered under his breath. Skrall were prideful warriors. The only thing more
shameful than a death by natural causes was surrender, but either option would ruin
their legacy.

To Stronius, the only sensible option was to wage another attack on the Glatorian. But
with the new elementally powered company they now kept, the chances of winning seemed
slim.

As much as he hated to admit it, the Skrall had been outmatched.

Branar rested his head against the rock wall when, without warning, the stone itself
began to rumble. Jumping to his feet, he and Stronius whirled around to face the rock
wall, as it shuddered with tremors.

“Earthquake?” asked Branar.

“No,” Stronius mumbled in confusion. “Not that…”

Suddenly, something seemed to burst forth from the rock. Branar jumped back, preparing
for the wall to crumble, but it never fell. No, it was not loose pebbles that collapsed
from the wall, but an intact structure, which seemed to take the shape of a leg.

Then, another leg extended from the wall, a stone foot slamming down onto the sand. A
torso followed, and before long, a being made of stone emerged from the earth, towering
over the two Skrall. Its ebon figure was thin and wiry, despite the strong rocks that
composed its figure.

Branar’s eyes widened, unable to comprehend what he was seeing.

The Element Lord of Rock had returned.

“Element Lord?!” Stronius spat, sliding backwards across the room. He picked up his
war club from the floor, and raised it in an aggressive stance. “We sealed your kind
away ages ago. Surrender now, and you can be sealed again. Fight us, please fight us,
and your death will cement my superiority.”

The Element Lord showed no fear at the threat, standing silently. Then, the stones and
sediment that made up his chest began to rumble, as a haughty laugh escaped him. “You
think to challenge me?!” he sputtered. “As always, Stronius, you overestimate yourself.
With my command, your clan would be buried alive in their own mass grave. A mere
whisper, and the Skrall would be nothing more than an unpleasant memory.”

“Then why aren’t we?” Branar interjected, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade.

With a rocky grumble, the Element Lord stepped forward, ignoring Stronius’ increasing
aggression. He leaned downwards, his spindly ebon form casting a shadow over them.

“Because I dream of so much greater for our tribe,” he said. “My brothers and sisters
toil away with our imaginary friend, and she may believe that she has my allegiance. But
in reality? I will be building an empire.”

Stronius glanced over to Branar, who shared an uneasy look with him. From what they
could make of the Element Lord’s ramblings, he had completely lost his mind during his
time in captivity.

“Here,” he muttered, placing a hand on Stronius’ club, “let me give you a glimpse.”

No matter how hard he struggled, Stronius couldn’t wrench his weapon away from the
Element Lord’s grip. He pulled back, digging his feet into the ground, but the Element
Lord did not waver. What more, his fingers seemed to be locked onto the hilt, unable to
release his grip. He groaned, feeling a new kind of energy move into the tips of his
fingers, and slowly pulse its way through his arm.

The Element Lord’s right hand reached up, catching Branar’s sword in his hand without
flinching.

“What are you doing to him?!” Branar demanded, his blade digging into the Element Lord’s
rocky palm.

The Element Lord smiled, like cracks forming in his stone facade. “The same as what I
will do to you,” he said calmly, ignoring Stronius’ screams. “I am perfecting him.”