A quarter of her army lay dead—torn, burned, broken.
And still, Damian hadn't lifted a finger.
Lila’s blood boiled.
Her lips curled in fury as she stared across the battlefield, where Damian’s forces were beginning to regroup, tending to the wounded and recovering their young.
“This ends now!” she shrieked.
Throwing her head back, she began to chant—her voice dark and ancient, pulsing with wicked power. Her eyes glowed pitch black, and from the depths of her core, a heavy wave of dark energy began to ripple outward.
The earth trembled beneath her.
A black mist began to spread across the battlefield—cold, thick, and suffocating. It slithered through the air like smoke from a cursed flame. Damian's wolves began to stagger. Even her own soldiers groaned in confusion, clutching their he
