The first waves of magical wind entered through the crack in the cavern ceiling, kicking up dust and ash. It was as if the atmosphere itself had become too heavy to breathe. The sound—that collective roar of thousands of voices, of spells echoing like thunder, of wings slicing through the air—invaded every empty space, filled every silence.
The woman gritted her teeth, trying to pull herself up with her good arm. Her body trembled, no longer from the pain of her wounds, but from the survival instinct screaming in her mind. Her eyes, still turned skyward, couldn't keep up with the movement of so many witches in formation, circling like a black swarm of death.
She had no way to defeat this.
No one did.
"No... it can't be..." she whispered, her voice almost broken.
