Chapter 9 - The Wrath of the Queen
"Attack! All forces, attack!" Vane roared, panic bleeding into his voice as he ordered his entire army of three hundred wolves to charge across the plain.
The ground shook beneath the thunderous stampede of hundreds of charging beasts.
Kyle drew his broadsword, shouting the command for the Moon Ash warriors to counter-charge. But before the two lines could crash together, Enia raised both hands high into the air.
The ground beneath the charging Black Blood army fractured.
Fissures split the stone open, and from the deep cracks poured rivers of liquid white-gold fire. The flames didn't burn indiscriminately; they moved like living serpents, wrapping around the legs of the Black Blood warriors, lifting them off their feet and neutralizing their momentum instantly.
Within seconds, the entire invading army was trapped within a magnificent, glowing cage of divine light. The heat was immense, yet not a single blade of grass outside the perimeter was scorched. It was precise, absolute, and overwhelming dominance.
General Vane, trapped within a ring of fire just feet from where Enia stood, tried to transform into his full wolf form to break through. The moment his fur touched the flame, a blinding flash of light threw him backward, sending him crashing hard against the rocks. He spat a mouthful of dark blood, scrambling backward on his hands and knees, staring at Enia as if he were looking at a ghost from his worst nightmares.
"You…" Vane choked out, his eyes wide with stark, unadulterated terror. "That mark… the royal bloodline… we burned your village twenty-four years ago! We killed every last one of you!"
"You tried," Enia said, her voice echoing with the fury of a thousand burning suns as she stepped closer to him. "You slaughtered my people, burned our home, and left me to die in the snow. But you forgot one simple truth, Vane."
She stood over him, her golden eyes burning down into his soul.
"Fire cannot kill what was born from it."
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With a wave of her hand, a pillar of white-gold light erupted from beneath Vane, engulfing him in a brilliant column of pure energy. There was no scream, no lingering agony—just a blinding flash of light, and when it faded, General Vane was gone, leaving behind nothing more than a fine layer of shimmering golden ash that drifted harmlessly away in the night wind.
Behind him, the remaining soldiers of the Black Blood Pack dropped their weapons, fell to their knees, and bowed their heads in absolute, unconditional surrender.
