Zack’s POV
The cavern buckled beneath my boots, stone screaming like it had lungs and a throat. Cracks split outward from the rift’s heart, glowing with veins of molten silver light. The entire mountain groaned as though it resented our presence, as though Kieran’s corruption had sunk deep enough into the rock itself to make the earth bleed.
Storm winds ripped through the chamber, conjured not by nature but by raw magic vomiting out of the rift. Every breath tasted of copper and ash. My wolf snarled inside me, bloodthirst vibrating against my ribs as if even he understood this wasn’t just a battle—it was the crucible where everything broke or became something new.
Then they came.
The remnants.
Twisted Lycans, their bodies bent into grotesque imitations of wolves and men. Half of them
