When the Suns Descend

"Shit..." The curse left my lips before I could stop it, the weight of the situation pressing down like a storm cloud over a burning battlefield. The massive entities, the grotesque First Borns, were barreling toward us, their horrifying forms screeching and twisting as they bore down with relentless force. Their appearance was a grim reminder that victory over the Broodmother alone wouldn't be enough. The Queen's middle portion lay writhing in agony on the scorched ground, her grotesque, corrupted body still thrashing in torment as the Liberator's warped visage etched itself into her flesh, screaming its anguish for all to hear.