Fenrir stood tall, his muscular frame shrouded in a thin layer of mist from the blood-soaked battlefield.
His eyes gleamed with a predatory hunger as he loomed over the fallen Lord Raegon.
The warlord had been knocked off his horse, the beast already dead from exhaustion and wounds inflicted upon it by Fenrir, yet Raegon himself still drew breath.
It was a mistake Fenrir intended to correct.
The massive wolf, now in his humanoid form, cracked his knuckles and stepped forward, his smirk widening. He could see the fear in Raegon's eyes, hidden behind the warlord's stubborn glare.
"I should tear you apart limb by limb," Fenrir mused, his voice dark, amused. "It would be merciful compared to what you deserve."
But then Fenrir shook his head. "But my master commanded me not to kill you so I'll only have one limb torn off. That should do."
But just as he reached out, something shimmered around Raegon's neck—a faint, pulsing light from the pendant he wore.
Woooooong~
