Before Malcolm could respond, Cù-Sìth made the first move – its gnarled arm sweeping forth with practiced malevolence, unleashing loops of eldritch netting to ensnare the Alpha.
The forest seemed to hold its breath as Malcolm lithely dodged the glistening strands, rendering the deadly trap naught but an exercise in futility.
The line was already drawn. Malcolm braced himself as the wolf-horrors closed in, fangs bared.
A bestial roar shattered the eerie stillness, causing flocks of startled ravens to take flight in a whirlwind of ebon wings. Ybyrith, the grotesque brute, bellowed a challenge and surged forward, each step bringing destruction closer to fruition.
Malcolm stood his ground, with every muscle in his powerful form coiled tight as a spring, ready to unleash devastation. He ob
