“Wake up Giants, armies of the King, for now is my time of need! Grigori’s monstrosities have come from the depths of hell to destroy my kingdom. Rise!”

The King brought the end of his staff down on the tiny alter before him, the alter that sealed the pact with the giants long ago. The ruby at the end of the staff shattered and reverberations ran up the length of the ironwood.

A long low groan sounded from the ground beneath King Vladimir. The ground shuddered and shifted. It swelled and rolled. The King searched for something to cling to. At the top of the hill there was only rocks. As he reached for the altar there was a brittle snap and it cracked and crumbled to the ground.

The earth rose up higher and higher, and then Vladimir was falling, tumbling through the air. He thought something had gone wrong, that Grigori had finally split the world in to. Then he was caught in a massive hand covered in wet, black earth. As he looked about he saw the land rising up and the giants emerging from their slumber.