As Morag's axe came down toward Reynard, time seemed to slow.
The air thickened.
Then, without warning, black fire erupted across the battlefield.
It swallowed the world in an instant.
Flames of midnight roared outward, devouring frost, swallowing the giants' cold, turning glaciers into steam. The ground trembled as the frozen landscape melted in jagged chunks, water hissing beneath the unnatural heat.
Morag's eyes narrowed.
He jerked his axe back, instinct forcing him to retreat a step as the inferno washed over where Reynard knelt.
A single word echoed through the battlefield.
"Veytharion."
The sky tore open.
A portal split reality itself—a vertical wound of writhing darkness rimmed in pale violet light. From within it, something vast slithered forward.
