The forest had never felt so empty.
No matter how far she walked… how deep she searched… how much blood was spilled—
There was nothing.
No trace.
No echo strong enough.
No Golden Wolf.
Wren’s Point of View:
“He’s gone.”
Wren’s voice is quieter now.
Not weak.
Just… tired.
“I told you,” she mutters, watching through her own eyes as Devolina tears through another abandoned village in search of lingering energy. “There’s nothing left of him.”
Devolina says nothing at first.
But Wren can feel it—
Frustration.
Sharp.
Growing.
“That’s impossible,” Devolina finally replies, her voice colder than usual. “Power like that doesn’t vanish.”
“It did,” Wren snaps. “You took it. You killed him. What did you expect?”
A flicker of irritation pulses through their shared body.
“I consumed
