The Mana Wolf lunged, claws ripping through the sand.
Ilya shifted her weight at the last moment, stepping aside with balletic precision. The beast missed her throat by inches, crashing into the side of the tent with a yelp.
Canvas tore. Dust rose.
She spun, knees bent, eyes locked.
The wolf was already back up, blood dripping from its lip, pacing in a slow, wide circle. Its eyes shimmered not with hunger but intelligence.
It growled again, lowered its head… and pounced.
But this time, Ilya was ready.
She pivoted and drove her heel into its skull as it passed. The blow landed clean a sharp crack echoed across the wasteland.
The wolf slammed into the ground, legs twitching. It whimpered once.
She stepped back, breathing steady.
"That all you got?"
No answer.
Then more growls. Dozens.
The dust parted. Half a dozen more Mana Wolves emerged from the shadows, surrounding her in a wide crescent.
Each one marked by a different rune etched into their fur. Alpha-bloods. Mutants. Smart. Fast. Deadly.
Ilya's lips curled into a slow smirk.
"Damn… You guys were throwing a party and didn't invite me?"
One of them lunged. Fast. A blur of silver and fang.
But Ilya was faster.
She twisted under its leap, letting its momentum carry it past then slammed her elbow into its ribs mid-air. Another crack. It howled.
She landed in a crouch, whispering softly:
"Okay, Whisperfang... time to come out."
From her right forearm, the coiled snake tattoo began to shimmer. Its eyes glowed a faint violet and then the ink itself unraveled.
In a breath, two black-bladed daggers slid from beneath her skin, the snake forming their hilts, its tail still wrapping her wrist like a bracelet.
Flick. Click.
She spun them into her palms. Familiar. Weightless.
"Let's dance."
The wolves attacked at once.
Claws from the left, fangs from the right. A pincer.
But Ilya was motion itself.
She ducked low, slid beneath one, and slashed upward her dagger slicing through a rune and splattering blue blood.
She twisted mid-roll and embedded her left blade into another's neck yanking it free with a twist that dropped the beast twitching.
One leapt on her from behind. She ducked her head, slammed her elbow into its jaw then spun and sliced across its throat in one flowing motion.
Whisperfang whispered as it drank.
Her movements were surgical not just practiced. Instinctive. Born.
Another wolf charged.
She sprinted toward it.
It lunged.
She ran up its back, kicked off its skull mid-jump, and spun in the air. Both blades tore through two wolves mid-leap before she landed in a low stance.
Five down.
The last two hesitated.
She walked forward slowly, letting the blood drip.
"Still wanna dance?"
They bolted.
She didn't follow.
Silence settled. The wind whistled through the broken trees.
Ilya flicked her blades once. The blood evaporated in sparks of violet light. Whisperfang returned to her skin like ink returning to a page.
She turned toward the shattered mirror again.
For a moment, she just stared.
Dirt smudged her cheek. A thin streak of blood curved from her hairline.
But her face it was stunning.
Delicate jawline, soft lips, faintly slanted violet eyes framed by thick lashes. Her features were sculpted with eerie symmetry too beautiful, in that way that made people instinctively cautious. Her beauty was dangerous. Something seen in dream-visions or divine punishments.
She wiped the blood off with the back of her hand, smearing a red line across her cheek.
Her expression softened.
Then her eyes widened slightly.
Because in the reflection behind her.
A man stood.
Unmoving. Cloaked in smoke and shadow.
His eyes glowed.
END OF CHAPTER 2