The Abyssal Wraith raised its claw for the final strike, malice oozing from its every movement. Miya lay on the ground, her blood soaking the shattered floor beneath her. Her breaths were shallow, her strength waning, and her daggers lay uselessly to the side.
"I'm the Enslaver Of Darkness, I'm the Empress of the Dark... I am a Mother, The Mother Of The Abyss!" She fought words out of her dry throat, her voice shaky and weak but filled with resolve.
Then... a shift.
Deep within her broken form, something stirred. It wasn't just a surge of power—it was a call, a command, a demand from the very fabric of her being.
The Wraith paused, its claw still mid-air, as the air grew heavy and cold.
The oppressive weight of darkness thickened to a degree that even it—a creature forged of abyssal energies—was forced to retreat out of fear and a flicker of reverence it felt from Miya.
