The silence on the invisible spatial highway was absolute.
Grand Duchess Evangeline sat on her massive, armored white elephant. She could not speak. She stared at the devastation in front of her.
Half of her three-hundred-million-strong Coalition army was completely immobilized.
The two thousand Glacial Wyrms carried out a perfect high-altitude strike. Their coordinated frostfire hit the tightly packed Royal Guards and siege mages like an avalanche.
The soldiers did not look like men in pain. They looked like perfect detailed glass sculptures.
Their heavy steel plate armor was coated in thick, flawless blue ice. Their mouths were open in silent screams.
The air around them was so cold it crystallized into a dense, creeping fog that hugged the Umbral Plane.
"They... they are frozen," a surviving Royal General whispered, his voice trembling violently.
He sat on his destrier a few yards behind Evangeline, staring at the statues of his own men. "It happened in seconds."
