Chapter 15 The Winged Terror

• The golden dome hissed, a sound like a thousand angry serpents.
• High above the Lycan Citadel, the sky was no longer blue or even the crimson of the Blood Moon. It was a suffocating, inky black, filled with swirling feathers that didn't drift, they hunted. Each feather that touched the Sun-dome left a gray, decaying stain, a localized rot that ate into the light Anna had poured her soul into.
• "He's evolving too fast," Silas growled.