Caelen was right. Malachar had never suffered such a humiliating defeat.
Not once.
For hundreds of years, he had been the one deciding the fate of others. He had been the one standing above everyone else, determining who lived and who died.
When had it ever been his turn to become the victim? Whenever a witch threatened his position in the realm, they never lived long enough to challenge him a second time.
Whenever a werewolf became too powerful and showed even the slightest intention of defying him, Malachar would cripple them or drive their wolf into insanity until their life force eventually faded away.
He had spent centuries ensuring that no one became powerful enough to threaten his position. But now, it seemed everything had changed.
In a single night, he had not only suffered an unbearable humiliation but had also lost decades of cultivation.
