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She barely had time to scream before the abyss swallowed her whole.

"Burn the waters!" one of the harpies screeched.

A group of them raised their hands, wings trembling with exertion as they wove together flames. One harpy hurled the first ember into the spreading pools of darkness.

For a brief second—nothing. Then followed by the sound similar to when something is lit aflame.

The battlefield erupted in spectral fire, gold and blue, clashing against the storm's oppressive darkness. The creeping waters boiled and recoiled, writhing like living shadows before slithering back into the Zealots themselves.

The creatures howled in agony, their forms twisting as the spectral flames devoured them. These were no ordinary fires—their essence burned differently, searing not just flesh but something deeper.

Seizing the moment, the harpies attacked with renewed vigor.