The courtyard had become a battlefield of shadows and moonlight.
Selra’s silver form blazed against the darkness, her fur ignited with living flame, each movement leaving streaks of light that lingered in the air. Across from her, Arthur’s massive black wolf heaved, his breaths ragged, his crimson eyes burning like coals fanned by fury. The stones beneath their paws bore the scars of their war—cracks gouged deep, streaks of blood glistening wet under the moon’s glow.
But the fiercest battle was not of claws or fangs. It was in the hearts of the wolves who surrounded them, their loyalty trembling like a flame in a storm.
Michael strained at the altar, his chains rattling as he watched. His chest ached with helplessness, but his voice carried above the storm. “Don’t stop, Ivy! They see hi
