CHAPTER 37: THE BREWING STORM
The forest was littered with the scent of blood and scorched earth, the aftermath of the brutal skirmish still clinging to the air like the remnants of a half-forgotten nightmare. The moon, high and heavy above the horizon, bathed the trees in an ethereal glow, casting long shadows over the still forms of the fallen. The silence that followed was deafening, the kind that only came after the clash of claws and fury.
Catleya knelt beside Caelum, her chest heaving, her body shaking from adrenaline and lingering pain. Her arms were streaked with blood—some hers, most not. Caelum crouched protectively before her, golden eyes glowing, his fur slick with sweat and blood as his muscles tensed for another wave.
But none came.
Not yet.
“Are you alright?” he asked,
