The battlefield smoked, fire and ash choking the air. Wolves staggered, bloodied and broken, but alive. For a heartbeat, silence fell.
Then the laughter began.
Ronan rose from the ruin, his body broken but still burning with shadow. His copper hair hung in black strands, his runes flickered weakly, but his voice was stronger than ever.
"You think you've won?" he hissed, his amber eyes pits of endless dark. "I am no longer man. No longer wolf. I am shadow incarnate."
The ground split. From the cracks, black smoke poured, thick and suffocating. It was not Ronan—it was the Shadow itself.
Eyes glowed in the smoke. Claws dripped from the void. Voices whispered in every ear, endless and hungry.
You cannot win. You never win. You always burn. You always fail.
Aradia's fire flickered. Kael's wolf snarled, but his green eyes darkened. Even together, their bond trembled.
The Shadow had come.