The valley held its breath.
The chained souls were gone, their ash scattered on the dawn wind. Their cries of release still echoed faint in the air, haunting, fragile. Wolves lowered their weapons, stunned. Even the Reavers hesitated, their masks tilted as though uncertain.
But the Grave Alpha did not hesitate.
He stood at the heart of the breach, his mask burning brighter than ever, his blade dripping fire. The chains that bound his summoned warriors had broken, and in their breaking, something inside him cracked wider.
When he lifted his head, the valley shuddered.
His voice carried, deep and raw, a sound that split stone.
“You would unmake me. You would unravel my chains. You dare.”
The runes on his blade blazed, spilling fire and shadow into the soil. His armor glowed faint, cra
