Syaoran stepped out of his grandfather's chamber, his mind heavy with the weight of what he'd just learned. His expression was unreadable — a storm of doubt, anger, and clarity rolled beneath the surface. He walked slowly down the corridor, footsteps echoing.
Just as he turned toward Fang's quarters—
"Your Majesty!" a familiar voice called out, breathless.
Taio sprinted toward him, his face pale and anxious.
Syaoran blinked. "Why are you running like the world's ending?"
Taio thrust a scroll into his hands, barely catching his breath. "Look at this."
Syaoran unrolled it quickly.
His eyes scanned the contents. And then—his jaw clenched. His pupils dilated.
"What…?" he muttered.
The scroll crumpled in his fist as rage surged through him.
"Lucian… you dare."
His voice dropped to a low, dangerous growl. "You're asking to die."
The air grew tense around him, his aura darkening like a storm. Taio stepped back instinctively.
"Your Majesty," Taio said, lowering his voice, "Lucian has declared war. He's coming… in two days."
Syaoran's amber eyes lit with a dangerous fire. "Then we welcome him."
His voice was icy, razor-sharp. "Tell the soldiers: prepare for war. None of our people will fall to Lucian. Not one."
Taio bowed deeply. "Yes, Your Majesty." He turned and ran down the hall, urgency in every step.
---
Meanwhile…
High above, atop the mist-shrouded mountain, Fang's eyes fluttered open.
No—Lunarya's.
She felt it instantly: the seal was gone. Shattered.
Power surged through her veins. It hummed in her bones, ancient and pure. She rose to her feet, raising one hand to the sky.
She whispered a spell — a mere whisper — and the air split.
Trees bent and snapped. The ground trembled. The mountain groaned in awe.
She smiled, dark and divine. "So this… is who I really am."
Her long hair danced in the wind as she floated upward, mist curling around her ankles. The palace glowed in the distance.
She didn't walk.
She flew.
The Goddess of Wolves had returned.