Fated Vengeance: A Mate's Reckoning
Killian muttered, gripping his staff, and we stepped through, the bond a lifeline as the world dissolved.
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The city hit us like a fever dream. We landed on a street of black stone, smooth as glass, its edges glowing with veins of light that pulsed in time with the dagger. Spires towered above, not stone but crystal, shifting colors—red, blue, violet—like they were alive. The air was warm, thick, scented with something sharp, not flowers but metal, blood. Figures moved in the distance—not human, not pack, but something in between, their forms fluid, their eyes glowing, watching us without approaching.
Bab Populer