The white wolf ascend….
….
The scream tore through the battlefield like a jagged bolt of thunder, shaking earth, stone, and bone alike. The wind froze midair, leaves hanging as if the world itself had paused.
Moonlight exploded outward from Elena, blinding, violent, divine. It carved through the shadows, slicing the darkness of the witch's army in two. Every living wolf froze. Every undead faltered mid-step. Every rogue stumbled, eyes wide, teeth bared, unsure where their master's power ended and something greater began.
The witch staggered back, clawing at the air, shielding her eyes. "No!" Her voice cracked like glass, the first thread of fear twisting into her centuries-old arrogance.
Elena's body lifted from the ground, her hair floating as if underwater, silvery strands glinting with starlight. Her skin shimmered, ancient sigils blazing across her arms, throat, and chest, silver light coiling like liquid fire along her veins. Her wolf form surged over her, immense and radiant, white as pure moonlight, eyes blazing like twin moons.
The White Wolf had fully awakened.
Every undead froze mid-step. Every rogue dropped to their knees, shaking, faces drained of confidence. Even the bravest warriors of the rogue faction faltered, awed by a force that belonged to neither man nor beast, yet touched both.
And then the Goddess spoke. Her voice rolled across the skies, layered with power, resonance, and fury. It was at once comforting and terrifying.
"Enough."
The Blood Moon above cracked with the force of her command, veins of silver spilling light down upon the battlefield. The fractured moonlight washed over the land like a tide of judgment.
Undead wolves howled , a chilling chorus , then fell, bodies dissolving into ash, freed at last from the witch's corruption. Rogues screamed as the magical bindings that had made them her soldiers unraveled, their limbs slack with confusion and terror.
The witch shrieked, raw, primal, a sound that split stone. "She's mine! I made her!"
"No!" The Goddess thundered, shaking the earth beneath them. "You defied balance. You defiled life. And you will answer."
Elena's glowing gaze swept across the battlefield, and then softened. She turned toward Lorenzo. Tears streaked her face, glimmering in the silver light , human even in divinity, fragile even in power.
"I'm scared," she whispered, her voice reaching him through the bond, trembling yet fearless.
Lorenzo dropped to his knees before her, chest heaving, his golden eyes alight with devotion, fury, and awe. "Then I'll be scared with you," he rasped, his fingers brushing her cheek, grounding her, connecting her to him. "But don't you dare face this alone."
The White Wolf's body surged with raw, radiant power, the ground trembling beneath her paws. Light rippled from her like waves across the battlefield, spilling over friend and foe alike. And yet, just as the power peaked, the strain became unbearable. Sigils burned hotter, the bond between Elena and the Goddess pulsing so fiercely it threatened to tear reality apart.
Her body shuddered violently. The silver light fractured around her, splintering like glass. Elena collapsed to the ground, exhausted beyond anything mortal or divine. Silence fell ,complete, reverent, absolute. The battlefield held its breath.
Lorenzo caught her in his arms, golden eyes scanning her face, tracing every line of pain, every flicker of fear. "Elena," he whispered, voice raw, almost breaking. "Look at me. You are everything. And you survived."
She blinked, trembling, yet the faint glow of silver still lingered in her veins, a reminder of what she had become. "I… I didn't…" Her voice cracked, human and divine all at once. "…I can't do this alone."
"You never will," Lorenzo said firmly, pressing his forehead to hers, both grounding and claiming. "Not while I breathe. Not while I live. Never."
Around them, the battlefield shifted. Wolves of every pack breathed a collective sigh, sensing the end of the witch's immediate threat. But far away, beyond hills, forests, and cursed lands, the witch's scream rose again , sharper, angrier, full of hatred that had lasted centuries.
"You dare! You dare challenge me!" Her voice carried on the wind, shaking mountains and bending rivers. "You will pay, every Alpha, every wolf, every last breath!"
Elena's hands trembled, her chest heaving, but her gaze never wavered. Silver light still pulsed faintly, steady now, controlled. She had won the first battle, but she knew the war was far from over.
Lorenzo tightened his arms around her, protective and possessive, a vow of love and power intertwined. "They will not touch you," he whispered, golden eyes fierce. "Not while I breathe. Not while we stand together."
The first night of the witch's reckoning had passed. The White Wolf ascends
The Moon above, pale and eternal, watched silently. Patient. Merciless. Waiting.