The growls multiplied, rippling through the trees like a wave of menace. My grip tightened on the blade, the cold steel grounding me as the shadows took shape—hulking figures, eyes glinting in the pre-dawn gloom. Bloodfangs. At least a dozen, maybe more. My stomach lurched, but I shoved the fear down. I’d faced worse odds in the training circle. This was just… bigger.
Lucian stepped forward, his presence a wall of barely contained fury. “Get ready,” he muttered, his voice low and steady. The trackers fanned out, forming a loose semicircle around us, their own weapons drawn or claws extended. The air crackled with tension, every breath sharp and deliberate.
A figure emerged from the pack—a tall, wiry man with a scar slashing across his left cheek. His eyes were a pale, unsettling yellow,
