Voryxia, Empress of the Black Abyss

The air didn’t burn — it screamed.

Heat rolled through the dead city, carrying the stench of copper and ash, while shadows writhed like serpents along broken walls. Above it all, wings — vast, crimson, alive — unfurled with a sound like tearing flesh.

And then… silence.

She landed among the ruins, her claws sinking into the stone as easily as wet clay. Eyes — pits of collapsing stars — fixed on the last of us. My breath died in my throat. My heart knew the truth my mind refused to speak.

There is no running. There is no fighting.

There is only Voryxia, Empress of the Black Abyss