In the decades since that fateful day, the humans had claimed the spot where the fox-kin’s city once was and turned it into a fortress. In a natural split in the Cliffs is a sheltered cove that the fox-kin and sea-folk used to use for trade. The humans scarred the land, cutting a zigzag path into it. Above it, they constructed pulleys and machines to get their resources from the height of the land above and onto the shore below. It’s the place where they launch their ships, and understandably, it’s the most guarded place on Balmora. Every few months, they test a new iteration of ships. One with cannons mounted. One with metal in the base so the sea-folk can’t sink it. They try whatever they think will get them to Vyrinterra, once and for all.

Below us, the dark sea rolls in an ever-shifting rhythm. Here and there, the ghostly shapes of sea-folk come and go as quickly as breaking waves, patrolling the waters for enemy ships.

It’s a quarter hour’s flight to Balmora—not a far distance by any means, but it feels longer without the promise of a quick return. We glide most of the way, saving as much energy as possible. I focus on my breathing, the way we’ve been taught. In what feels like no time at all, the restless churn of waves becomes a roar. We’re approaching the Cliffs.

Teams begin to break away, each aiming for a different part of Balmora’s western shores. My senses are hit with a wall of smells I’ve come to associate with Balmora from my past scouting missions—smoke and dirt, earth and metal.

Out of nowhere, a watchtower blazes to life, the flames throwing harsh shadows over the broken landscape and shocking my vision. Moments later, another one lights up in the distance. Humans and their shadows pour out of the earth. As my eyes adjust, I see their hidden bunkers among the barren earth and tree stumps just as bullets begin to fly. Roars intermix with the sharp fire, and I instinctively swing higher to get out of range. We’re far from the human fortress. They shouldn’t be this far south. Is that what they’ve been doing these past months? Building out defenses to span the entire coast?

Sethran banks sharply to the right, roaring for us to follow. “We need to take cover, quickly.” From behind, I hear a roar as other teams do the same. “Ox, the tree!”

“I see him!” To my right, Ox responds by taking his human form. Just as his armor transforms, the bow he has clipped to his chest plate as a lion dissipates into sparks of magic, re-appearing on his back. He pulls it forward, nocking and then loosing an arrow with a practiced deftness—a move that I’ve never mastered, no matter how hard I tried.