The resurrected predecessor Queen stood perfectly upright on the bone street, her rusted iron crown blazing with a tall, blinding pillar of pitch black fire.
The moment her hollow eyes locked onto the survivors, the ambient temperature inside the colossal cavern plummeted drastically.
The heavy, sulfurous air froze instantly, turning the rising steam into a thick, biting frost that coated the stone cliffs and the massive vertebra beneath their feet.
She did not draw a blade.
She did not strike with a physical weapon.
Instead, the dead Queen opened her parchment dry jaw and released a low frequency, vibrating sonic hum that rattled the marrow in their bones.
The sound acted as an absolute command over the deep layer.
Directly beneath her, the boiling ocean of black nectar surged upward in an aggressive wave.
