The forest was alive with the echoes of the wolves’ howls. Branches snapped under the weight of paws, the air thick with tension and the metallic scent of fear and anticipation. Lydia’s wolves had scattered, confused, disoriented by the charge of the guardians, leaving her exposed in the center of the clearing.
She stumbled back toward the treeline, eyes wide, lips twisted in a mix of fury and panic. I could feel the pulse of her desperation. The magic she wielded, sharp and jagged, but fractured, uncontrolled. She’d always relied on her cunning and charm, on manipulation, but now there was nothing to hide behind.
“You really thought you could outsmart me.” She spat, her voice carrying over the growls and sniffs of the guardians circling us. “I’ve been planning this for years! You’re too
