RUMBLE—A thunderous tremor, like the awakening of a buried god, tore through the silence with earth-breaking force, shaking the world so violently even Sylvaris's footing wavered for a moment. It wasn't just sound—it was a heartbeat, a pulse echoing through the roots of the forest like the soul of something vast and ancient had stirred. The trees stiffened. The birds vanished. Even the mist froze, clinging to the air like it was afraid to move.
"HHHRRRAAAAAUUUUUUGGGGHHHHHH!!!"
The howl came next—soul-rending, world-splitting—and for the first time, Sylvaris's expression shifted. His eyes contracted sharply, a flicker of genuine tension crossing his face as his body instinctively braced. That sound didn't scream warning, didn't cry pain. No—what tore through the air was a promise. A declaration. Someone was going to die today.
And it had already chosen him.
