The smoke from the battlefield had barely settled when it began to twist again, curling in thick, black ribbons that swallowed the silver glow from Selene’s hands. The air turned cold, unnaturally cold. Every wolf left standing could feel it, the chill of something that refused to die.

Darius froze mid-step. His sword hung at his side, his chest heaving, eyes locked on the center of the field. “No…” he muttered. “That’s not possible.”

The smoke pulsed, taking shape once more. ...