The jet dipped beneath the cloud line.
Below was the war. The once-vibrant borderlands of Alfheim were scarred beyond recognition. Forests that should have been alive with ancient magic were now twisted, blackened, and crawling with movement.
Void-born. Hundreds, no.. thousands.
They swarmed like a living infection, tearing through elven defensive lines, climbing trees, dragging warriors down from branches, and corrupting everything they touched.
And among them, larger shapes moved. Void beasts. The air itself felt wrong.
Inside the cockpit, Yamal's eyes narrowed.
"Target-rich environment."
Maelis tilted her head slightly, fingers hovering over the controls.
"Wind patterns shifting… multiple high-density clusters ahead."
Yamal's hand moved.
"Good."
The jet's underbelly shifted. Panels slid open with smooth precision. Weapons armed, there were no loud alarms, no dramatic build-up. Just quiet readiness.
"Firing."
The jet unleashed hell.
