The war horns blew, a single, deafening note that was the sound of the world's end. As the tidal wave of silver and gold crashed across the blood-darkened plains, the Bastard of Maxmore remained the calm eye of the storm. Astride his monstrous white warhorse, he was a beacon of impossible light.
He did not draw an arrow. He created one.
With two fingers, he drew back the ethereal string of his sun-bow. The air around his gauntlet shimmered with heat as his fingers ignited, burning with an orange light of purest form. Between them, an arrow of solidified flame materialized, its tip a searing white that warped the very air around it. He chanted, his voice a low, resonant hum of pure power that vibrated in the chests of his men, a song of sun and fire. As his two fingers pulled the string to its absolute limit, he spoke the final word, a command to the heavens.
"Heliostrike."
