Chapter 145

The earth quakes—the sky thunders.

A pulse ripples across the field, low and slow, like a heartbeat out of sync. Dust rises, trembling. Loose rocks shift. The branches overhead groan as if something older than time has awakened beneath them.

Arwan stands in the center of it all like a conductor before a violent symphony. His eyes, already dark, now swirl with shades of crimson and something fouler—something deep. Veins snake black across his neck, down his hands, crawling beneath his skin like poisoned roots. The air around him thickens, hotter. It crackles.

He raises his hands slowly, deliberately, and doesn’t need to speak.

Power listens.

The hum grows louder—an unnatural vibration that moves through the ground and into bone. It rings inside Theon’s skull like metal dragging across stone. He clenches his jaw, muscles tightening instinctively. His claws flex against the damp soil.

Something shifts.

The undead Lycan King, who had staggered mere seconds ago, lets out a low groan.

Theon