The man's body convulsed violently, veins turning black as if liquid shadows ran beneath his skin. His eyes rolled back, glowing faintly with a crimson sheen, and his screams twisted into guttural snarls. Aamir stepped forward, fists clenched, but even before he could strike, the ground beneath them cracked open.
The corrupted vassal was no longer fully human—nor werewolf. His bones cracked, reshaping, sprouting jagged claws. Flesh peeled away only to reform into something alien. It wasn't possession anymore. It was consumption.
"Host," Luman's voice rang sharp inside Aamir's mind, "this is not mere corruption. This… is a birthing."
A wave of dread swept through Aamir. His instincts screamed that what was happening mirrored what he had faced on the vampire planet—but worse. Back then, the Eclipse had birthed a nightmare. This time, it was something beyond even that—a hybrid of werebeast and bloodbeast, molded into existence by the Beast's will.
