Above them, the heavens darkened as though the very sky had recoiled from her arrogance. Clouds of abyssal black rolled into place, smothering the stars. A storm was born, wild and furious, its voice a roar that shook the world.
Jagged bolts of green lightning ripped across the firmament, striking the land with merciless fury. Each strike carved craters into the planet's surface, sending tremors that echoed like war drums.
The wind that followed was no gentler; it was more like a razor-sharp current that howled across the ground, cutting through rock and metal as though they were no more than paper.
It was no ordinary storm. It was wrath given form, an omen woven by the clash of powers too great for the world to contain.
The soldiers and mercenaries caught beneath its shadow felt their knees weaken. Some were thrown to the ground, others shielded their faces, but none could find comfort.
