The warped wolves did not attack immediately.
They circled.
Jerking. Twitching. Snarling as if struggling against something inside their own skin.
Moonlight struck their bodies unevenly — silver veins flashing too bright, then dying to black.
Rovan stepped forward.
The Moonmarked formed beside him in silent alignment.
Not a command.
A current.
The tether pulsed between them like a steady heartbeat.
The warped wolves felt it.
They recoiled.
One staggered forward, claws digging trenches into the earth.
“Make it stop,” it rasped — voice layered, fractured.
The pack gasped.
It was still aware.
Still fighting.
Thalen moved closer to Rovan’s side. “They’re not Voidborn.”
“No,” Rovan said quietly.
“They’re us.”
—
The largest of the warped wolves lunged.
Not at Rovan.
At Aeri
