As Asher was about to pull out his sword, a deep, rapid thud-thud-thud filled the air. He tilted his head upward, his white eyes narrowing. The flapping of wings, vast, leathery and powerful, grew louder, and from beyond the curtain of clouds, a colossal wyvern descended.
It was massive, the size of a young dragon, its wings stretching wide like sails of death. Behind it came more… a squadron of nightmares. Over a dozen wyverns spilled into the sky like a tide of scaled wrath.
The heavens darkened further as the swarm grew. Fire poured down like rain. Jets of flame bathed Asher's army below. Swiftwings, smaller, faster, swooped with surgical precision, picking up soldiers mid-charge and ripping them apart in the air, flinging limbs and armor into the skies like bloodied confetti.
Asher's gaze sharpened.
Now, nearly twenty of them were barreling toward him in formation.
