Moonlight bled through a veil of storm clouds as Seraphina stood at the cliff's edge, her silver eyes locked on the shadowy silhouette of the vampire queen's fortress. The wind howled, tugging at her cloak, sending her curls whipping like flames around her face. Behind her, a dozen wolves waited in silence, each of them handpicked, each of them forged under her command.
She had trained them in secret—away from prying eyes and the rigid traditions of their kind. Her pack was unlike any other: lean, ruthless, and driven by a singular purpose—destroy the nightcrawlers.
And tonight, they would make their mark.
Seraphina's hand clenched around the hilt of her twin blades. The leather of her gloves creaked faintly as her heart pounded, not with fear—but with a hunger for revenge.
"This is it," she said quietly, turning back to face them. "We go in swift and clean. No screaming. No mercy. We get in, we find my sister, and we burn that wretched place if we have to. Understood?"
