Chapter 165

• Lusia
• The battlefield was a maelstrom of savagery, scarred stretches of churned earth and splintered trees, the air thick with the metallic tang of blood, the acrid burn of liquid silver, and primal musk of Lycans and werewolves locked in mortal combat. The above moon was a cold, unblinking eye, casting its faint glow upon the chaos, turning it into a nightmare tableau.
• My white wolf form trembled, and my muscles ached, while my hazel eyes darted through the fray, my heart pounding with fear and fury.