Karl stood over his brother, claws dripping red. Kael's body twitched faintly, golden sparks flickering and dying like embers in ash. One more strike, one more push of fire, and it would all be over. Years of rage, years of silence, finished in one blow.
He raised his claw. The flames crawled higher, coiling tight along his arm.
Then the air shifted.
Boots struck stone. The sound was sharp, deliberate. Not one pair—several.
Figures stepped through the smoke.
Three of them.
Karl froze, his claw still raised. His eyes narrowed as he turned his head, fire flaring brighter in irritation. "You're late," he spat.
The first figure moved into view—a wolf with silver scars running down his jaw, armor strapped across his chest. His aura pressed heavy, steady, a soldier's discipline wrapped tight around him.
The second was taller, a serpent-woman draped in black scales, her eyes glowing faint green. Her tongue flicked out once, tasting the heat of Karl's flames.
