The moment the Queen's final shriek echoed into silence, a shift passed through the battlefield like a thunderclap made of air. The oppressive weight in the atmosphere lightened, as if the very forest exhaled.
In Darin's arms, the Sorceress lay limp, her skin pale, her robe torn and charred at the edges from overexertion. She hadn't said a word since she fell. Her breathing was shallow but steady, and that was the only reason Darin hadn't started screaming.
Then, in the chaos of the stunned army around him, a voice thundered across the clearing:
"THE QUEEN IS DEAD!"
Vincent stood atop a crushed ant warrior, one foot planted dramatically on its head like it was a trophy. His sword was drenched in ichor, his face smeared with sweat, dirt, and sheer triumph.
"KILL THEM ALL!" he roared, voice ragged with exhaustion but filled with unrelenting fire. "THEY'RE MINDLESS NOW! WITHOUT HER, THEY'RE JUST BUGS!"
A tremor went through the army.
And then the company surged.
