With a sudden roar, Curtis launched himself at the creature, claws drawn, sorrow fueling every step.

  But it wasn't reckless rage.

  His movements were fluid, calculated, and masterful.

  He stepped back to shift between forms, slipping into the White Wolf's agility to dodge a brutal strike, then bursting into his Demon Wolf form for raw strength, before sliding into his towering Lycanthrope shape to counterattack with overwhelming force.

  Every transformation altered the markings across his body—the Demon Wolf sigils shifting and glowing differently with each form, like living tattoos reshaping themselves for war.

  "Pay close attention, Tobias," Vantos said. "Your father has mastered the Demon Wolf curse. Watch the markings. Each form unlocks different strengths. Different abilities. He's adapting mid-battle."

  Vantos allowed a small, grim smile. "You should take notes. It might save your life one day."

  Arrows streaked through the sky, striking down the undead wolves. Lutia moved quickly, opening shimmering portals that sucked Desmond's remaining skeletal minions into the void, tearing them from the field one after another.

  The way forward, to Desmond, was almost clear.

  Watching my father battle his twisted brother, Vantos dropped to one knee beside me, working faster than before. His fingers cut precise lines into the dirt, tracing a complex sigil. Without hesitation, he retrieved another Ethran crystal from his robe and placed it at the sigil's center.

  The crystal flared to life, pulsing violently, sending ripples of dust and earth outward in steady, rhythmic waves.

  "I only have enough life force for one more summon, young master. After this, I'll only use defense magic to protect myself," Vantos said. "Listen carefully—if you want to save Derrick, we have to attack Desmond at the same time."

  He lifted his head and pointed directly at Desmond.

  "He's vulnerable while he's absorbing Derrick's life force. If we interrupt that connection, even for a moment, Desmond's defenses will shatter. He'll be completely exposed."

  Vantos narrowed his eyes, studying the necromancer across the battlefield with grim focus.

  "To sustain his army... to maintain this much dark energy... he has to draw it through a source... and anchor it with a catalyst. Interrupt the flow of dark energy and break the catalyst. That should stop him."

  The ground trembled, splitting apart as wood, soil, and stone merged into a swirling mass. From it, a massive form took shape—the elemental hound, Gaston.

  The moment he solidified, he stomped forward, flames flickering along his massive shoulders. His burning eyes immediately locked onto his target.

  "A necromancer!" Gaston bellowed, voice rumbling across the battlefield. "You've outdone yourself this time, Vantos. I hope this warlock's power is worth my time!"

  Without hesitation, Gaston charged. His massive frame plowed through the battlefield, crushing skeletal wolves underfoot and scattering bones like leaves in a storm.

  But no matter how many undead fell, more clawed their way out of the earth, rising faster, overwhelming the battlefield.

  "Impulsive as always," Vantos said, adjusting his stance. "I didn't even have time to count to three. I suggest you join Gaston before he gets all the glory."

  Snarling, I swung my claws and pushed forward toward Desmond, carving through the skeletal minions, watching my flanks—but the tide was relentless. For everyone I cut down, two more rose in their place.

  Desmond's eyes snapped toward Gaston, his expression twisting with something between recognition and hatred as the elemental hound tore through his minions with brutal efficiency.

  "I know this reckless familiar," Desmond said. "It's been decades since I last laid eyes on you."

  He let out a sharp, broken laugh—more madness than joy.

  "And where you roam... your master is never far behind."

  His skeletal fingers twitched, brimming with spite.

  "I knew you would come, master! And now I'll prove it—prove that I was always better than you!"

  Desmond extended one decayed hand outward. The ground around him cracked open in three places, jagged bones surging from the earth. They twisted and locked into three new bone prisons, each sealing inside a captive member of my people, slumped and weakened, trapped by Desmond's dark magic.

  "Andrea!" I yelled, recognizing her.

  From each prison, a sickly green mist began to leak, streaming toward Desmond like smoke drawn to a fire. He absorbed it hungrily, and with every stolen breath, the change was immediate.

  The skeletal wolves around him shifted.

  They grew larger, more grotesque—their bones reinforced, their movements sharper, more violent. They radiated the same poisonous mist that had once weakened Mel, only now it pulsed thicker, deadlier.

  The battlefield itself seemed to shrink under the sheer pressure of their presence.

  Vantos shouted above the chaos, his voice cutting through the haze:

  "Try not to enter their area of effect, young master! The mist will drain you faster than you can fight it off!"

  The undead Demon Wolf's power surged—its strikes faster, heavier, quickly overwhelming Curtis.

  Without thinking, I sprinted toward him, reaching him just as the creature's claws swung down. I grabbed Curtis and yanked him clear, the undead's claws slashing into the ground where he'd just stood.

  "What are you doing!?" Curtis barked, struggling against me. "Focus on the Necromancer! I'll handle my brother—I swore I'd send him back to hell!"

  "Don't die on me," I snapped. "There are questions you still need to answer. And after that..." I smirked, tightening my grip, "...I'm going to sweep the forest floor with you."

  For a brief moment, I met his gaze—steady, unflinching—before turning my eyes back to Desmond.

  "That's a promise."

  Curtis grinned, bloodied but unbroken. "You've got yourself a deal, kid."

  But if I were going to keep that promise...

  I needed to get faster. Stronger. Smarter.

  In my current form, I wasn't a match for Curtis—not even close. If I was going to stand a chance, I had to adapt. Transform faster. Fight harder.

  I turned and charged toward Desmond.

  All around me, skeletal wolves clawed their way out of the ground faster than before, driven by the green mist fueling their resurrection. I tore through them, my claws flashing, but there were too many to fight cleanly.

  At my side, Mel worked with deadly speed, knocking elemental arrows from her Endless Quiver, firing in rapid succession. Each shot slammed into the rising minions, buying me precious seconds.

  And ahead of me, Desmond waited—his power swelling, his twisted army growing.

  "You will never reach me!" Desmond bellowed. "I will drain the life of your servants until there's nothing left to save!"

  The ground rumbled beneath my feet. Cracks split open, and from the earth, a massive skeleton clawed its way free. Towering over the battlefield, it wielded an enormous shield swirling with sickly green mist, and a black-bladed greatsword that reeked of corruption.

  Desmond thrust his skeletal hand toward it.

  "Go forth, my Sexton Guardian!" he commanded. "Bring my enemies to their knees!"

  Gaston snarled, flames crackling along his shifting form.

  "The Sexton Guardian is mine!" the elemental hound roared, his body transforming into molten lava as he charged. "You get the necromancer!"

  The ground hissed and steamed under Gaston's charge as he collided with the massive skeleton, their clash shaking the battlefield like a miniature earthquake.

  I turned my focus back to Desmond.

  No more distractions.

  I dropped low, shifting into my white wolf form—my body becoming leaner, faster. I darted through the skeletal wolves like a flash of light, weaving between them as they lunged and snapped.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  But then, I felt it, movement. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of death racing toward me: an undead claw, aimed straight for my spine.

  Immediately, I shifted mid-run, transforming into my Demon Wolf form. Power exploded through my limbs. I twisted, brought my claw up, and caught the strike mid-air with a spray of bone dust.

  Snarling, I backpedaled, barely dodging another skeletal claw aimed at my throat.

  Curtis rushed to my side, bloodied and staggering but still standing. Mel landed in front of us in a flash, releasing a blinding arrow that exploded across the battlefield, bathing the chaos in brilliant white light. The skeletal wolves recoiled, momentarily stunned.

  Curtis grabbed my arm, yanking me back.

  "I'm at my limit, kid," he said, voice ragged. "I don't know how much longer I can hold out. At my age, my transformations are getting slower."

  "There are too many of them!" Mel shouted over the chaos. She reached over her head to pull an arrow from her Endless quiver, only to summon another Elemental light arrow. She threw the arrow near Vantos, unhappy with the summon.

  "I have no use for those light arrows, they're useless!"

  Suddenly, an invisible pulse rippled near her—a resonance in the air, subtle but powerful, like something hidden between realities yearning to break free.

  Mel's instincts flared.

  Her eyes widened. She reached into one of her dimensional pockets and her hand closed around something. Then, she pulled it free.

  Luminara.

  The dagger gleamed, hovering with a soft pulse of ethereal light in her hand. It shimmered briefly, then darted, like a guided star, straight toward the elemental light arrow she discarded.

  Vantos didn't flinch. Calmly, he caught the hovering dagger midair and, with his free hand, retrieved the elemental light arrow from the ground. The arrow and the dagger pulsated in unison, causing a smile to spread across his face.

  "Mel," he said, his voice brimming with a rare excitement, "this arrow is charged with the power of an Archon!"

  I felt it the moment he spoke — a surge of raw energy that made my skin crawl and the air crackle around us. Luminara pulsed in Vantos' hand, not just reacting to the chaos, but thirsting for the energy emanating from the arrow.

  In that instant, the pieces fell into place. I understood Vantos's plan — and the terrible risk he was willing to take.

  He wasn't going to use the arrow—he was going to fuse its power into Luminara itself, turning the dagger into a weapon strong enough to pierce through Desmond's defenses. Our one chance to tip the balance in a battle we were dangerously close to losing.

  Without hesitation, Vantos gripped Luminara tighter and drove the arrow into the Ethran crystal embedded in the dagger's guard.

  The reaction was immediate and violent.

  A shockwave of pure elemental energy exploded outward. The blast threw Vantos off his feet, hurling him back through the dirt. The crystal in Luminara's guard drank the energy greedily, consuming the arrow's light until the dagger blazed with a searing brilliance.

  Once the energy was infused, the dagger changed.

  Luminara erupted with a swirling blue fire that danced along its blade, the flames twisting unnaturally as if alive. The Ethran crystal embedded in the guard blazed with an intensity so fierce it illuminated the cracked ground beneath it.

  Without wasting a second, Vantos sprinted toward the dagger, scooping it from where it had fallen, and hurling it toward me.

  I caught it—

  And immediately regretted it.

  The moment Luminara touched my skin, agony shot up my arm. The searing heat of the Archon's power burned against my flesh, forcing me to drop it on the ground.

  "I can't hold it!" I gasped, gritting my teeth as Luminara's blazing power scorched my hand.

  "You can't wield it while in your Demon Wolf form!" Vantos yelled through the chaos.

  I knew he was right. But shifting back meant losing speed and strength, leaving myself exposed. Vulnerable. And Desmond's army was closing in fast.

  Then a sudden movement caught my attention. Not from the undead. Not from Desmond.

  From something else.

  A pressure rolled over the battlefield — raw, primal, familiar. My senses snapped toward it instinctively, my heart lurching before my mind caught up.

  A savage roar split the air, fierce, and defiant.

  Out of the roiling mist and broken earth, she appeared — a dark shape tearing through the ranks of skeletal wolves with feral precision. Bones shattered under her claws. Mist burned away in her wake.

  The Demon Wolf marks along her body pulsed like molten veins of fire.

  And the scent slammed into me. Annie.

  The battlefield seemed to freeze for a heartbeat.

  Desmond staggered, his hand dropping, the green mist he'd been siphoning from his prisoners collapsing midstream. His voice, usually dripping with cold confidence, cracked into a whisper of disbelief:

  "No..."

  Annie didn't say a word. She didn't need to.

  Her arrival spoke louder than any roar of battle, and the effect was immediate.

  The skeletal wolves crumbled into heaps of brittle bone as Desmond's broken link to them was severed. Only the Sexton Guardian and the undead Demon Wolf remained standing — heavier, slower, without the endless tide at their backs.

  Gaston, seeing the shift, withdrew from the guardian and took a defensive stance beside Vantos, who now knelt on one knee, breathing hard, his reserves nearly gone.

  And Annie—

  She strode forward, radiating a fury that could tear through stone. She stopped just in front of me, her presence a living shield. She glanced back over her shoulder, her crimson eyes softening only when they found mine.

  "Are you hurt, my love?" she asked.

  I clenched my fist, feeling the blistering heat from Luminara's power still surging through my veins.

  "Just my pride," I said, managing a crooked smile despite the pain.

  Desmond's skeletal form wavered.

  The blackened bone and rot clinging to him faded, peeling away like mist until what remained was something closer to a man—frail, ancient, hollow. His tattered robes clung to a body ravaged by time and dark magic.

  He took a slow, unsteady step forward, his gaze locked onto Annie, his hollow eyes wide with something between disbelief and grief.

  "How could you...?" he rasped, his voice cracking. "My daughter..."

  He stumbled closer, almost reaching for her like a man clawing at a memory slipping through his fingers.

  "You turned her into a beast," he whispered, accusation dripping from every word. "You," his gaze snapped to me, burning with anguish, "you corrupted her—forced this curse upon her—!"

  Annie's growl rumbled low in her throat. She stepped between Desmond and me, her body trembling not from fear, but rage.

  "I was the one who chose this path," she said, her voice steady but shaking with suppressed emotion. "I chose to become the young master's Luna Wolf. We thought you were dead. We mourned you."

  Her eyes shimmered with pain as she stared at the broken man before her.

  "But after watching from the shadows... seeing what you became..."

  She shook her head, voice breaking.

  "You're no better than the monsters that plague this town."

  Desmond recoiled as if struck.

  "Why...?" he rasped, his voice fraying at the edges. "Why would you stain your innocent soul with such a curse? I had no choice. My soul was corrupted — consumed by the rage of a demon I could never control. It twisted me into the monster you see before you. That's why I vanished, why I faked my death. I couldn't face the ruin left in my wake. The demon's hunger forced me to devour the life force of others just to survive."

  His gaze fell, heavy with regret.

  "But to choose corruption — to willingly invite the curse — is not a reason to throw your life away. I expected more from you." His voice cracked, the disappointment of a broken father bleeding through every word.

  Annie's fists trembled. Her breath hitched, the strength that had burned so fiercely within her moments ago faltered.

  Her form flickered — fur receding, claws vanishing — until she stood once more as a fragile human girl. Her knees buckled beneath the weight of exhaustion and heartbreak, and she collapsed to the ground.

  Tears streamed down her cheeks, cutting lines through the dirt and blood.

  Suddenly, I felt it.

  The air itself changed—growing heavy, and sharp. Every tree, every blade of grass around us began to wither and die, their life drained away by an unseen force radiating from Desmond.

  "I will never forgive you!" Desmond roared, his voice ragged with hatred. "You hear me, Demon Wolf?"

  "Young master!" Vantos shouted through the howling winds. "You must get Annie away from him! In her condition, she won't survive! Desmond is about to release the seal on his soul! He's going to absorb the life force of everything around him! Including her!"

  Without hesitation, I scooped Annie into my arms. She was limp, her breathing shallow.

  I sprinted away from the battlefield, following a faint, familiar scent on the wind—one that led me through the dying forest.

  Sheltered against the roots of a massive, withering tree, I found her: Lydia, Annie's mother, shielding herself from the gale of dark energy tearing through the woods.

  "Please," I said, dropping into a crouch beside her, "you have to get out of here. It's not safe—if you stay, you'll be caught in it too."

  Lydia's tear-streaked face lifted to meet mine.

  Her eyes locked onto the chaos raging in the distance—onto the collapsing figure of her husband, what was left of him.

  "I can't believe..." Lydia whispered. "That monster... is him."

  Gently, I laid Annie down beside her mother. Lydia reached out, her hand trembling as she touched her daughter's cheek.

  "That thing is not your husband anymore. Annie needs you now. Get her back to the house. Protect her."

  Lydia nodded, silent tears streaming down her face as she gathered her daughter into her arms.

  Behind me, the winds grew harsher—the forest groaning as Desmond's unleashed despair poisoned everything around him.

  With a final glance over my shoulder, I plunged back into the battlefield — only to be met with the harrowing sight of Andrea and Alphonse collapsed within twisted prisons of bone. Fury ignited in my veins as a horde of skeletal wolves clawed their way out of the corrupted earth, their numbers swelling like a tide of decay.

  I shifted into my lycanthrope form, seeking strength — but the transformation came at a cost, trading speed for raw power. Within moments, I was surrounded.

  Mel appeared at my side, losing arrows with rapid precision. Her hand faltered only when she drew a single arrow, one charged with a dark, pulsing energy.

  "I know what to do with this one," she said grimly, nocking it and leveling her aim at Vantos.

  "Wait — you're not seriously thinking—"

  Without hesitation, Mel released the arrow. It struck Vantos squarely in the shoulder — but instead of piercing him, the dark energy melted into his body, consumed in a single breath. His eyes darkened, flickering with newfound power as the last trace of the arrow vanished from his flesh. Vantos straightened, a surge of strength rippling through him, and cast a hand toward Gaston, imbuing the beast with raw, volatile energy.

  "Now, go fetch me a few bones," Vantos commanded, his voice low and eager.

  "With pleasure!"

  Gaston sprang into action, tearing through Desmond's skeletal minions with savage force. Bones splintered and corpses collapsed under his onslaught — but even his ferocity struggled to stem the tide. Desmond's corruption thickened the air, and with each pulse of dark energy, more skeletal wolves clawed their way from the cursed soil.

  "We'll be overrun if we don't stop him!" Vantos shouted over the chaos.

  "Mel! Take Luminara — we need to clear a path to Desmond!"

  Without hesitation, Mel seized the blade and carved a path through the encroaching horde. At every strike of Luminara's edge, the skeletal wolves shattered into dust, their remains withering beyond the reach of resurrection. Across the battlefield, Desmond's eyes widened — not in rage, but in fear — as he caught sight of the weapon in her hand.

  Panicked, Desmond tore his focus away from Derrick's withering body. He abandoned draining his life force to inscribe a protection sigil in the air before him hastily.

  But he was too slow.

  Behind him, Derrick's eyes snapped open — burning with vengeance — and in one desperate move, he clamped a hand around Desmond's throat.

  "Young master! This is your chance — kill him now!" Derrick yelled.

  For a heartbeat, time itself seemed to freeze.

  But before Derrick could tighten his grip, a blade of bone erupted from Desmond's body like a wicked thorn from a dying rose, driving Derrick back with a brutal, sickening force.

  "Derrick!" I roared.

  A surge of fury tore through me, so violent it ripped away my human form. White fur exploded across my body as I shifted into my wolf form, but it wasn't enough. Rage twisted deeper, dragging me into my Demon Wolf state, unleashing my power in full.

  I lunged forward, claws flashing, and tore into the Sexton Guardian, bringing the massive creature crashing to its knees, but not enough to eliminate it. As I turned, a gleam caught my eye — the blade in Mel's hand quickly disposed of the Sexton Guardian, forcing its unnatural energy to dissipate and the giant body to crumble into dust.

  Desmond staggered back toward the bone prisons, retreating under a swirling shroud of dark fog that rose like a living thing, cloaking him in impenetrable shadow.