The wraiths lunged.
Their silver bodies warped and multiplied, claws dragging across the shifting ground, hollow eyes fixed on Lyra. Every breath they took made the air colder, heavier.
Kael roared, his wolf blazing in golden fire as he hurled himself forward. His claws raked through one wraith’s chest, but the creature only split again, two becoming three, three becoming four.
Lucien cursed, his shadows lashing like spears. They pierced the wraiths, slicing them apart—only for each severed piece to reform, crawling toward them with snapping jaws.
“It’s useless!” Ronan shouted, panic breaking through his usually calm voice. He pulled Lyra back, his arms wrapping protectively around her waist. “They’re feeding on us—on our rage, on our division.”
Lyra’s fire sputtered in her hands, wil
