The silence that descended over the shattered limestone basin was heavier than the white dust hanging in the freezing mountain air.
Around the broken perimeter, hundreds of disarmed Tsanka veterans and dazed Kafika beast-tamers stood frozen in the shale, not daring to reach for their scattered weapons.
Every eye remained fixed on the base of the eastern ridge, where the supreme matriarch of the Western Council lay crumpled in the loose rock.
Zaira held her massive triangular head motionless five paces from the collapsed ruler, her burning crimson eyes glowing like molten iron in the dark.
The titan's hot, ozone-scented breath stirred the pulverized dust around Nakia's bloodied face, a stark reminder that a single snap of those jaws would end her reign forever.
Nakia pressed her trembling palms into the sharp gravel, fighting through the searing agony in her cracked ribs as she forced her torso upright against the stone wall.
