The team, gathered at the center of the battlefield, stands frozen in growing panic, the smell of scorched earth and old smoke thick in the air, boots sinking into mud churned black with soot and blood, as everyone waits to see what the Demon Queen will do next.
Weapons hang half-raised, nobody quite willing to be the first to lower theirs. Vexena stands motionless, still as a blade balanced on its point.
The shadow wall erupts with a low, grinding crack, splitting apart before them like a wave crashing against stone, and from the gap torn open in the shattered ranks of the Demon Queen's army, three impossibly radiant figures emerge, seated on horseback.
They look ethereal, glowing faintly against the smoke-choked fields, and as they move, the hooves of their steeds strike the scorched, scarred earth in perfect, blessed unison.
