The world lurched as Moonworth’s magic pulsed, a heartbeat of raw corruption that made reality itself shudder—and Thunder roared in protest deep in my chest. I practically choked on the foulness in the air, thick and oppressive, snaking into my lungs like a coil of rotten vines. Beneath my paws, the ground twisted, turning rancid as the frost from my ice tried to ward off the monstrous wave of necromancy.
Somewhere behind me, my pack still fought—a grim chorus of snarls, panicked yelps, and the wet sounds of ripping flesh. Though distance separated us, I could sense their collective fear and resolve pulsing along our pack bond, like thunderheads forming on a stormy horizon. But in this moment, it felt like only Moonworth and I existed, two forces poised on a stage of decaying soil and swi
