The battlefield burned with chaos. Steel clashed, wolves snarled, and the stench of blood hung heavy in the air. Zaria’s declaration still rang in the night, echoing through every soul present. She moved like fire through the storm, her blade cutting arcs of silver in the moonlight, each strike fueled by years of silence, betrayal, and buried rage.
Rogues surged forward in waves, their eyes glazed with madness, their movements savage and relentless. They wanted to overwhelm her, to drag her down into the dirt. But Zaria was not prey. She was the storm she had promised.
She dodged a lunging rogue, pivoted, and slashed upward, spilling crimson across the night. Her body screamed with exhaustion, but her spirit refused to falter. This was no longer survival. This was war.
Beside her, Kael’
