Kneeling, when hundreds of apex existences do it at once, has a glorious sound.
It rolled across the black plain of THE Vhelgaros like a slow tide of thunder as Primeval Ones of Ages lowered themselves to the cracked stone, titans of bone and Ego and petrified starlight folding downward rank after rank, and between them the omen-blooded Descendants of the old order sank to their knees with their horned heads bowed, lineage-weavings dimmed in submission before a power their architects' blood could not argue with!
Thousands of powerful existences! Two armies! One Dimension!
All of it knelt!
Descendant Ilvexa was among the last. The widowed monarch stared at the figure burning above the white ash of her husband for a long moment, her clawed hands slowly closing.
Then she, too, lowered her horned frame to the stone.
