Wolfsbane: His darkness, Her Light
Twax and Iza were close.
A few more minutes of running and I saw them. Twax hunched near a crude altar, his single arm fumbling with a vial of dark yellow liquid. A low growl rumbled in my chest as I spotted his maimed shoulder. Finn’s work. Good. The bastard was frail now, his movements sluggish, but the malice radiating from him was sharp, cutting through the night like a blade.
Iza stood further back, tall and cold, his black eyes gleaming with triumph as an aswang relayed details of the battle. The creature hissed and gestured, but Iza’s smirk widened as though everything was going precisely as planned.