The victory celebration had been short-lived, a mere flicker of warmth before a cold, unnatural winter settled over my soul. A heavy, suffocating silence now hung over the southern lands, as if the earth itself had forgotten how to breathe. The air didn't just feel cold; it felt empty, a vacuum that sucked the heat from my skin and the hope from my chest. Above, the moon—once a vibrant silver orb of Lycan power—had turned a sickly, pale gray. It cast a dim, ghostly light over the newly restored temple, carrying a hollow chill that no normal wind could bring. It was the smell of dust and nothingness, a scent that shouldn't exist in a world full of life.I stood on the obsidian balcony, my fingers digging into the stone railing as I watched the horizon. Beside me, Kaelen was silent, his presence a comforting weight, but I could feel the tension radiating off him in sharp, silver waves. We were waiting for a blow we couldn't see, an enemy we didn't understand.
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