You failed them, the Queen whispered from the constantly shifting shadows, her presence wrapping around his mind like a suffocating serpent. You are weak. Your arrival brought only ruin. Submit to the hive. Become one with the dark, and the pain will end.
For a terrifying, agonizing heartbeat, Sol's silver domain cracked. The darkness began to pour in, ready to overwrite his consciousness and turn his physical body into an empty, drooling husk.
But unfortunately for her, Sol was a transmigrator.
The Queen's illusions were flawless, incredibly potent manifestations of primal terror. But they were exactly that… primal. They were rooted in the localized logic of the Great Orrath, designed to break the minds of native beasts and native men. She expected her prey to shatter under the weight of despair, to surrender to the overwhelming, ancient predator that had ruled the dark for centuries.
She didn't know what she was trying to digest.
