Page 131 of Warlord's Plaything

Not fire.

Not steel.

Something else.

Something ancient, raw, monstrous in its intensity.

Something that makes the very earth tremble beneath us.

Something that turns the air thick with power, with fury, with something unnatural and unstoppable.

And then I hear her.

"NO!"

My breath catches.

It’s not just a scream.

It’s a war cry.

A declaration.

A command from the fucking gods themselves.

Hira stands at the heart of the carnage, her body a living storm, her eyes burning like molten gold.

The air around her crackles with something that shouldn’t exist—something no orc, no human, no dark elf should wield.

Magic surges from her skin, raw, untamed, enough to make even the most battle-hardened soldiers hesitate.

I see Kaelith’s men falter, stepping back.

I see fear in their eyes.

Because Hira is no longer just a fighter.

She is something else.

Something terrifying.

Something unstoppable.

She raises her hands.

And the battlefield bends to her will.

The earth cracks apart, deep fissures splitting the ground beneath us.

Wind whips around her, swirling like a goddamn hurricane.

Blades of golden energy manifest in the air, spiraling outward?—

And then they fly.

Striking. Piercing. Cutting through the enemy ranks like divine fucking retribution.

Kaelith’s warriors scream.

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