The battle was chaos.
Ronan's rogues struck like demons, claws glowing with black fire, eyes blazing with madness. Wolves fell, their howls cut short by teeth and shadow.
Aradia's fire roared to life, her flames searing through the darkness, but the shadow did not burn. It fed. For every rogue she struck down, the shadows thickened, laughing in her ears.
You cannot escape me.
The voice from her dream. The whisper that had haunted her across lifetimes.
Kael fought like a god of war, his massive wolf tearing through the rogues, his claws dripping with ichor. But even he faltered when the shadow itself rose from the trees—a mass of smoke and claws and endless eyes.
Aradia screamed, her fire blazing higher than ever, but it was not enough. The shadow's tendrils wrapped around her, cold and suffocating, dragging her toward its endless maw.
Kael roared, his human form tearing free, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her back with strength that defied reason. His lips pressed to her temple, his voice raw. "You will not take her! Not in this life, not ever!"
Her fire erupted in answer, surging brighter, burning through the shadow's grip. Together, wolf and witch drove it back, but not destroyed.
Not yet.