The battlefield erupted.
Wolves tore through rogues, their howls clashing with screams of shadow-beasts. Snow melted into rivers of blood. Kael tore through enemies with unstoppable fury, his claws dripping ichor, his dreadlocks whipping in the wind.
Aradia's fire roared to life, golden flames splitting the sky, burning hundreds into ash. But with every strike, the shadow bent, feeding, growing.
Ronan descended, his massive form tearing into Kael. Claw against claw, fang against fang, Alpha against Shadow Lord. The earth cracked beneath their fury, mountains shuddered with their blows.
Aradia screamed, her fire blazing, but every time she struck Ronan, he absorbed it, his runes glowing brighter, his laughter echoing across the battlefield.
"You see?" he roared. "She is mine! Her fire belongs to me!"
Kael staggered, blood pouring, his green eyes dimming.
Aradia's fire surged, white-hot, desperate, unstoppable.
And for the first time—the gods intervened