The Butterfly Beats Its Wings, and a Single Thought Changes the Heavens

"The Father cracks his whip!"

The Riverlands knights' roar rolled like thunder, pounding at everyone's ears.

The infantry on the Riverlands' left flank answered with a deafening roar and launched their fiercest assault yet against the already chaotic right flank of The Westerlands.

The Westerlands' right flank had already been holding on through sheer desperation.

Now Suleiman led his cavalry through the disordered enemy ranks like a red-hot iron spike.

His target was clear: Stafford Lannister's banner, the standard that marked the commander's position.

The Westerlands' right flank collapsed in an instant, like a sandcastle struck by a wave.

Soldiers threw away their spears and shields. Terror filled their faces as they turned and fled.

Their formations broke apart, and the rout spread like a plague.

The courage Stafford Lannister had only just found vanished amid the thunder of hooves and furious shouts,

melting away like the last snow beneath a blazing fire.

He sat on his horse, trembling like a leaf in the autumn wind.

The black tide of cavalry drew closer. At its head rode the Black Lion, like death returned from hell.

Stafford Lannister suddenly screamed.

He wrenched his horse around and lashed its rump wildly, heedless of his own soldiers ahead.

"Out of my way! All of you, move!"

The horse shrieked in pain and bolted, knocking over two Westerlands spearmen trying to form ranks.

Their commander had fled.

Every Westerlands soldier still struggling to hold the line saw it.

"Run!"

"We're finished!"

"Lord Stafford's running!"

The collapse took only an instant.

The soldiers in front dropped their spears; those behind shoved their comrades aside.

The entire right-flank formation shattered like a pane of glass.

Suleiman ignored the routed soldiers scattering in every direction.

He swung his Valyrian Steel Sword, cutting down one fleeing Westerlands soldier