The command was broadcast across every telepathic frequency simultaneously, a shriek of pure panic that cut through the organized formations like a blade through silk.
The Herald had perceived it.
The unfathomable concentration of power emanating from that diminutive, obsidian sphere. He had detected the void-signature, the profound influence of dark magic that surpassed their collective capabilities.
The draconic brigades didn't have time to process the command before the sphere reached its maximum altitude.
The implosion began.
The black lightning sphere didn't explode outward immediately. It folded inward instead, creating a localized vacuum that existed at the intersection of physical law and magical theory.
The vacuum pulled at everything within its radius. The atmosphere itself.
The very concept of existence.
The screams started then.
Dragons at the center of the formation felt their bodies drawn toward the vacuum's origin.
