Helena screamed.
It was not a human sound. It was a raw, primal shriek that tore from the depths of her shattered soul a sound of pure, unadulterated agony that seemed to vibrate in the marrow of everyone present.
Her vocal cords strained until they sounded like they were tearing, but she didn't stop. The scream became a conduit, a bridge between her grief and the raw power she was about to unleash.
She flung both arms outward in a desperate, violent gesture.
"DEATH TO THE DEVIL!" she shrieked.
The atmosphere in the hall didn't just change; it died. The air began to hum with an ominous, subsonic frequency that made the teeth of every soldier in the room ache.
A pressure like the eye of a hurricane rolled across the floor, rattling every remaining shard of glass in the windows until they exploded outward with a synchronized tink-tink-crash.
Then, the elements answered her call.
