Thorne walked slowly through the underground halls of his lair, his black robes trailing behind him as dark magic curled around his feet like living smoke. The entire place responded to his presence.
The lighted stone walls flickered whenever he passed. Shadows stretched unnaturally toward him. The very air felt heavier, colder, poisoned by the power he had allowed to grow inside him. On both sides of the corridor, feral wolves knelt with their heads lowered.
Not out of loyalty. Not truly. Out of control. Their minds had been broken long ago. Whatever personalities they once possessed were gone. Their memories of family, pack, mate, and home had been stripped away until all that remained was aggression, obedience, and an endless hunger to attack. Some still bore the scars of the spells u
