Shadows Over Crimson Fang
The battlefield was a cacophony of chaos and death. Malrik’s forces pressed forward relentlessly, their shadow wolves weaving through the ranks of Crimson Fang’s warriors like phantoms. The glowing eyes of the dark creatures seemed to burn holes in the defenders’ resolve. The rogues were feral, fighting with no regard for their lives, driven by the eerie power emanating from Malrik’s relics.
Draven led the charge at the front lines, his towering frame a blur of claws and teeth. His amber eyes burned with fury as he tore through waves of attackers, howling orders to his warriors between each brutal strike. His presence galvanized the pack, their howls rising in defiance as they followed his lead.
But for every enemy they felled, two more took their place. The shadow wolves moved unnaturally, slipping between attacks and lunging with jaws that snapped like iron. The ground beneath them seemed to darken as if the relics’ magic was bleeding into the earth itself.
Inside the packhouse, Isla paced, her heart pounding with every howl and clash of metal outside. She had entrusted Micah with the twins, her most precious treasures, but even knowing they were safe couldn’t ease the ache in her chest. Her silver eyes flared with determination as she watched the battle unfold from a second-story window.
Susan entered the room, her armor bloodied but her posture unyielding. “The west flank is weakening,” she said urgently. “If they break through, it’s over.”
“We can’t let that happen,” Isla said firmly, her hands clenching at her sides. She turned to Susan, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions threatening to consume her. “Pull back the injured and reinforce the line. We hold the packhouse at all costs.”
Susan nodded, her gray eyes fierce. “Understood.”
As Susan left, Isla whispered to herself, “You will not take this from me, Malrik. Not my pack. Not my family.”
Outside, the sky burned with the orange glow of fires spreading through the forest. The cries of the wounded mixed with the roars of wolves locked in mortal combat. Crimson Fang was holding, but just barely.
Draven’s voice cut through the din like a blade. “Hold your ground! They want you to break!” His claws slashed through a shadow wolf, the creature dissipating into dark mist as it fell.
Yet the shadow relics’ influence was undeniable. Wolves faltered, their strength waning under the oppressive magic. For a brief moment, it seemed the tide might turn against them.
From the packhouse, Isla’s voice rang out with unwavering resolve. “We will not fall!”
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