[VOLUME 15: THE PRIMORDIAL PILGRIMAGE][ARC 3: THE RIVER OF FLOWING SAND]
The sound wasn't a roar of hunger, nor was it a battle cry. It was a sound that scraped against the very marrow of Elara's bones—a long, ragged wail of pure, unadulterated agony.
The whirlpool of pitch-black sand violently erupted.
A behemoth rose from the dead waters. It was easily ten feet tall, its body a grotesque, shifting mass of compacted black sand, rusted chains, and jagged, calcified bone. But what made Elara's breath catch in her throat wasn't its size.
Embedded into the creature's chest and shoulders were shattered fragments of armor. Even coated in centuries of filth and dark sediment, the metal gleamed with a faint, tragic familiarity. It was celestial gold.
