Before the tension could boil over, the ground beneath them shivered. The sky, already a bruised purple, darkened to a suffocating black. From the dunes rose a Grade 7 Vraal—a towering monstrosity of claws and hunger, its scales glistening with a sickly slime. ​"We can argue about her wings later!" Leif shouted, drawing the Great Sword of Deltora. The gems in his belt began to glow—the Topaz for strength, the Ruby to ward off evil. "Jak! Left flank!" ​Jak didn't need to be told twice. With a roar that rivaled the beast’s, he leaped forward, his sheer physical power a blur of motion. Doom followed, a black streak of fur and teeth, snapping at the Vraal's heels to distract it.