Ovelia's POV
The battlefield unfolded before me—a living nightmare clawing at the edges of my vision. The scent of damp earth and iron filled the air, mingling with the acrid tang of burning canvas. Through the skeletal gaps in the trees, I caught glimpses of the fight:
Ann moved like shadow given form, her dark fur rippling as she wove between two hulking werewolves. Her claws flashed, precise and lethal, each strike leaving crimson trails in the moonlight. Nearby, Philip danced around Khaleed's spear thrusts, his daggers flickering like silver minnows in a moonlit stream. Ray was a blur of silver and orange, his movements fluid as he left unconscious bandits in his wake.
And then there was Ace.
My breath hitched as I watched him—his massive silver form colliding with the monstrous black werewolf. The impact sent tremors through the earth, rattling the roots beneath me. Each clash of fang and claw echoed like thunder, the sheer force of it vibrating in my bones.
