The sky over the Blackfang Stronghold was no longer a natural blue; it was a bruised, pulsating violet, as if the heavens themselves were a festering wound.
The mist Sienna had unleashed was not merely a poison; it was a sentient corruption, a viral shadow that sought to rewrite the very essence of every living thing it touched. In the valley below, the proud warriors of the North were falling to their knees, their skin turning translucent as the violet veins of the Void began to map their bodies. The screams echoing through the crags were no longer human or wolf; they were the hollow, digital screeches of the monsters from the laboratory.
