The Black Wolf
She staggered back, clutching at the handle with clawed fingers that trembled, not from pain, but from the raw terror of what was to come.
She collapsed to her knees. Her skin began to crack. Veins pulsed beneath the surface, black and glowing, before splitting open like lightning fracturing the sky. Her body spasmed, her screams dissolving into gurgles.
And in front of my eyes, Nyra crumbled into ash. And at the heart of the blackened dust, something small and solid remained. A dark glossy stone.
A demon’s core.
I stared at it in silence, my fingers still tight around the dagger’s hilt, my breath ragged. My heart beat not just for me, but for the life within me.
Bab Populer