Chrome and Claws
Wolves howled in pain, silver wounds smoking against their flesh.
And then she saw them.
The hunters moved in formation, their armor etched with strange runes that pulsed faintly. Their leader lifted a silverfire blade and shouted, “Bring down the Luna! She is the key!”
Raven froze, her blood chilling. The key?
Malrik appeared from the smoke, his long cloak shredded, eyes blazing like embers. With one sweep of his hand, he tore a hunter’s spear in half, the wood splintering as if it were kindling.