The skies above the scorched battlefield still shimmered from the aftermath of Tarak's fall. Zorwath stood amidst the devastation, his gaze scanning the fading flames with amusement.
But then—he paused.
A strange sensation surged through his chest.
Not pain. Not fear.
Something… familiar.
He narrowed his eyes. The wind around him stilled.
His loyal general, a towering being clad in obsidian armor, approached silently and knelt.
"Lord Zorwath," the general rumbled. "Your aura... it flickered. Are you—"
"I felt it," Zorwath interrupted, his voice lower than usual. "Something ancient just woke up."
The ground trembled beneath their feet. Then—
CRACKKKK!
A massive beam of pure light erupted from the earth far beyond the mountains, shooting high into the sky like a divine flare. It split the clouds. The world seemed to hold its breath.
Zorwath's smile returned.
"So… they dared awaken her."
The light twisted, collapsed inward—and from it, something began to rise. Floating.
