The battlefield is a storm of chaos. Wolves clash, silver and shadow flashing across the scarred ground. Aria stands at the center, her silver wolf massive and radiant, energy pulsing like liquid moonlight. Her eyes burn with determination, fury, and the promise of justice.
Kael fights at her side, every strike synchronized, but he knows this moment is hers alone.
Malrik steps forward, his monstrous wolf growling, muscles rippling with unnatural power. His presence presses down like a dark storm, the air itself vibrating with malice.
“You’ve grown stronger,” he says, voice echoing across the battlefield. “But strength alone cannot save you.”
Aria snarls, silver light shimmering across her fur.
“Power without purpose is meaningless,” she retorts. “And I fight for everyone you’ve tried
