The Turning Point
Eryon’s wolf let out a deafening roar, the sound reverberating through the chamber as he lunged at the King. His massive claws tore through the knights who dared stand in his way, their armor shredding like paper under his relentless fury. Blood stained the stone floor, but the King stood unwavering, his blade gleaming with a sinister light.
“Come on, then,” the King said, his voice calm but dripping with menace. He sidestepped Eryon’s charge, swinging his sword in a deadly arc. The blade slashed across Eryon’s flank, drawing a howl of pain from the wolf.
“Eryon!” Lyra screamed, her grip on the artifact tightening as its energy pulsed violently in her hands. The whispers were deafening now, their urgency pressing against her mind like a storm.
Seraphine’s magic flared, creating a shield to deflect the King’s next attack. “Focus!” she shouted to Lyra. “We’re running out of time!”
Lyra’s silver eyes blazed as she fought to contain the artifact’s power. Its energy coursed through her, raw and unrelenting, pushing her to the brink. She could feel her wolf stirring beneath the surface, clawing at her control as the battle raged around her.
Eryon stumbled but refused to fall. His wolf’s growls were low and feral, his amber eyes locked onto the King with unrelenting determination. Blood dripped from his wound, but he pushed forward, his massive form barreling toward the King once more.
Misery stood beside the King, her blade poised and ready. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes flickered with something unspoken. Eryon’s wolf paused briefly, his growl deepening.
“Misery,” he growled, his voice rough and filled with pain. “Why?”
Misery smirked faintly, tilting her head. “Because I always choose the winning side, wolf. And it’s not yours.”
The King raised his blade again, but before he could strike, Seraphine stepped forward. Her silver eyes burned with fury as she summoned a wave of dark energy that sent the knights scattering. “Enough!” she commanded, her voice echoing through the chamber.
The artifact pulsed violently in Lyra’s hands, its light growing brighter as the whispers reached a fever pitch. She clenched her fists, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she fought to control it.
“Lyra, now!” Seraphine shouted. “We need to retreat!”
