Wolves Of Berlin The Cursed Hybrid
“Hey, Eras, ever fancy life as a sewer rat?”
He froze, mid-spell. “What?”
“Yep,” Walda cackled, green light swirling. “No dog for you—too noble. A rat’s perfect, filthy, unwanted, scurrying in the dark. I just clipped your pride, fool!!”
“No!” he screamed, red magic flailing. “You can’t—”
I joined her, blue tendrils merging with her green. “A gentleman ensures justice. Farewell, Erasmus.”
The spell hit, his body twisting, shrinking with his robes collapsing as he squeaked, a mangy sewer rat with beady eyes glaring up at us.
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