Xavier's eyes burned with the fierce glow of wolfish rage as the Queen's mocking laughter echoed through the cavernous lair. The walls, draped in ancient, dark tapestries, flickered in the dim light of the crumbling torches. The air was thick with the scent of burning embers and the lingering, metallic tang of blood. His muscles coiled in anticipation, every nerve screaming for the fight to begin, even though he knew—deep down—that he was outclassed.
The Queen, ever composed, stood with an air of effortless authority, her long black cloak flowing around her like a living shadow. Her eyes, glowing amber with dark power, fixed on Xavier with contempt.
"You really think you can challenge me?" she purred, her voice an intoxicating mix of amusement and cold arrogance. "Such a brave little wolf, so eager to die."
Xavier gritted his teeth, his breath steady despite the growing unease in his chest. He didn't come for a quick death. He came for Seraphina.
