The battlefield is silent for a heartbeat, as if the world itself is holding its breath. Dust and smoke swirl in the moonlight, the scars of the war etched into the ground. Aria stands at the center, her silver wolf towering and radiant, energy rippling across her fur like liquid moonlight.
Before her, Malrik staggers, his monstrous wolf collapsed beside him, defeated, his dark aura fractured and fading. He glares at her with disbelief, fury, and fear all tangled together.
“You… how…?” he rasps, voice broken, the darkness in his eyes faltering.
Aria steps closer, her silver light bathing the battlefield, her presence unyielding.
“This is the strength of loyalty, courage, and love,” she says, voice calm but commanding. “You may have tried to destroy us, but you underestimated what it me
