The night was swallowed by the madness that raged in the harpy god Tweety's eyes. Her legion, a force she had grown with love and care over the years had been obliterated by Ravan Bloodfall, and the grief was a gaping wound in her heart. Every beat, every pulse, only served to deepen her anguish and fuel her fury.
And then there was Mira, the black dragon who had dared to engage her, keeping her busy while her legion was massacred.
Tweety's feathers bristled at the thought, her talons scraping against each other as if itching to rip into something, anything. Her voice, usually melodious, was now filled with a cacophonous rage that echoed throughout the forest.
[Echoes of the Fallen] she cried out, her voice amplifying the collective screams of her fallen soldiers. The sound swept across the battlefield, resonating with such devastating force that even the trees were torn apart.
