The structure known as Ragnarok jutted defiantly from the sands, ageless and proud. Standing just over four stories tall and made of smooth unblemished marble, William could believe that it had been built solely as a gesture of defiance against the withering sun which battered ineffectively against the structure from high overhead. By Haida, for all he knew the original creators had built it for just that reason. The few scholars that studied the place all agreed that it had been built before the age of men, though even the long lived elves of Raiaera knew nothing of its creators. But whatever its original purpose had been, Ragnarok had become known as a place where great fighters met to do battle, an arena of legend. That reputation was all that William cared about, and it was what had drawn him across the vast, empty wasteland.
Waves of heat rippled from the marble steps as William approached Ragnarok’s base, some caused by the intense glare of the bright sun, and some caused by the aura of heat surrounding the revenant. Comfortably safe from the sun’s searing rays in his war form, William had maintained the charred transformation throughout the entire three week journey to the monolith. He hadn’t seen another living soul in all that time, human or otherwise, but there was no denying that he was right to come here. Something had reached out to from Ragnarok, an indelible calling which dragged him to this place of strife.
The smooth marble clicked beneath the bone carapace on his feet as William mounted the dais and entered Ragnarok’s main floor. He gazed at the ancient podium wall in the center of the plaza and the water surrounding it, somehow unaffected by the dry desert weather. The air hung heavy with ancient magic, patient and waiting.
Ragnarok had called, and William had answered.
