Rising from the smoldering earth, a wall of demonic flames painted dozens of kilometers in a blasphemous green. Combusted timber and flesh from beasts too slow to flee thickened the air. Beneath the thick smoke that shrouded the sky, long shadows danced like gnarled, beckoning fingers.
No surviving beasts were foolish enough to answer its call. The chorus of crackling bones made sure of it. Instead, soaked in sweat, a question shattered their skulls. How could the Celestial Frost Matriarch let this vision of the realm's end happen in the middle of her territory?
Not far, Yuehua Ji watched the earth weep as if its scars throbbed in remembrance of Andras' puppet's invasion fifty millennia ago. Blood trickled down her fists as her face contorted in a hideous grimace. This couldn't happen—this wouldn't happen under her watch.
