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The Lycan Territory had been reduced to its lowest.

Yes, they had fought battles before. They had defeated the darkness time and time again, but never had it come to this.

The pack had never seen a hell so cold.

The shadows coiled like smoke, filtering through the air watching as their leader, the clone Bavanda stood above Avynna, her dagger raised halfway, gleaming with malicious promise.

Her face curled up into one of her villainy smirk. “I asked, Mother, would you give your life too?” There was venom laced in the way she said the word, ‘Mother’. “To save these young wolves who don't even belong to you, are you really going to lay your life, and leave behind the ones who actually belong to you?”

Avynna knelt below, hands steady despite her trembling heart, shielding the crying twins and their broken mother behind her. Her gaze met Bavanda’s—or what wore her daughter’s face—and she refused to look away.

She gritted her teeth in determination, even though her insides were burning up in the cruel hands of fear. “You tell me, Bavanda. Are you really going to take my life if I give it to you? Will you kill me with your very own hands, forgetting that you are the one who belongs to me? Do you not care about me anymore? About your brother?"

Bavanda's expression faltered ever so slightly. She frowned, but only for the briefest minute. Then, her eyes began glistening yet again. “What now? Should I make him join you too?"

Avynna's eyes glowed with fury. "Don't you dare!”

Bavanda cackled hysterically, willing a fake tear from the corner of her eyes. "Don't threaten me, Mother." She lowered her dagger, but this was only to trail it on Avynna's skin. “You're in no position to do so.”

Avynna held her breath as the dagger reached her neck. She shut her eyes as the edge pricked her, the warmth of her blood making goosebumps crawl through her skin. She shut her eyes. “Bavanda, you… you don't have to do this. Please.”

Clone Bavanda smirked, withdrawing the knife. “Good! Beg me to stop. I might.”

Baron stood just steps behind, frozen in place. Every instinct told him to move, to do something, but… he couldn’t.

His legs felt weak beneath him. He couldn't watch the scene unfold before him, yet he couldn't look away.

They were surrounded.

The shadows had the entire pack ringed in a dome of smoky black. Warriors who moved too quickly were struck down, torn to pieces by invisible claws. Elders were pinned to the earth by cold, pulsing chains of corrupted magic. Every movement went noticed, he couldn't risk it.

Baron's eyes darted around the huge room once used for the gathering of their united and happy pack. He couldn't recognize what had become of it. They had fallen, so hard that standing up felt impossible.

His chest twisted in pain. How did he let this happen?

He counted only twenty warriors still upright. The rest lay scattered, wounded or worse.

If I fight… she dies faster, Baron thought grimly, fists clenched at his side. If I attack now, they’ll strike her before I get close. I’m not fast enough.

He felt the fury in his chest rising, molten and ancient. I’ve failed them once already. My daughter. My mate. This monster twisted her, took her from me. I will not lose my wife too.

He wanted to roar. He wanted to throw himself into the chaos, but he held himself still. Acting rashly would put him at a disadvantage. Yet… he was running out of time.

Moon goddess, please help! Please…

The moon goddess must have heard his prayer. At that moment, a loud bang echoed in the entire room, like an explosion had happened in some part of the pack. The council hall shook.

The air wavered. The clone’s dagger stilled midair, her brow furrowed suddenly.

She cocked her head to the side, her eyes narrowing as she stared at the closed door, like she could see through it. Her hand fell, distracted, tension crawling into her shoulders.

She turned to Avynna still on her knees, then with pure contempt in her eyes, she blurted out. “You better not try anything stupid, no one is coming to save you.”

She didn't spare her another glance as she strode past her, and everyone else to the huge council doors. With a flicker of her hand, the door made way with a loud thud. The same thud echoed as she disappeared out of sight and the door shut.

Without a second thought, Baron pounced on the moment.

“Warriors,” he snapped through the mindlink, his voice thunderous and clear. “NOW. Attack the shadows. Hit them from behind. In pairs. Do not face them alone. This is our moment.”

“Alpha—”

“She’s distracted. That’s our opening. You fight for your pack. You fight for Avynna. For Bavanda’s true soul. GO!”

They didn't hesitate anymore.

Like clockwork, wolves leapt from hidden corners. Spears of moon-forged silver and enchanted steel emerged from beneath cloaks. Two warriors slashed the nearest shadow down in perfect rhythm—one to blind, the other to sever.

The shadows shrieked, but it was too sudden to fight back. They tried, but apparently, they were weak too.

The clone whirled back in alarm, the door breaking through as she returned.

“No!” she screamed, voice layered with something that was not Bavanda’s. “STOP THEM!”

The battle turned fast and vicious.

Shadows twisted through the air like smoke given claws, but the warriors had learned from past attacks. They didn’t fight fair, they struck smart. Through the smoke, from below, in threes. Every kill came at a cost, but it was working.

A few had fallen. Still, they pushed forward.

Baron himself leapt into the fray, tearing through two shadows with his bare claws, rallying those around him with roars of command.

But it couldn’t last.

The clone returned to the center of the room, eyes wide, face contorted in fury. She raised her hand, and every single warrior dropped, like puppets who had their strings cut. They collapsed to their knees, some choking, others screaming. A few claws remained outstretched, frozen mid-swing.

Baron, too, fell.

His knees slammed into the ground, his hands clawing at invisible pressure around his throat. He looked up, snarling.

The clone hovered now—literally—slightly above the earth. Her hair floated, her eyes were black. And her voice… her voice was something far from ordinary.

“You dare defy me?”

She turned her gaze to Avynna. “I gave you a chance. I gave you mercy. You threw it away.”

“No,” Avynna rasped, still shielding the twins. “Mercy? What mercy? You call that mercy. You are not my daughter.”

Something dark moved in Bavanda’s features, an old echo. “Wrong,” the clone said softly. “I am what she should’ve been. What the Dark Lord intended. His son was weak, but I will fulfill his legacy.”

Avynna looked her straight in the eye. “You’re a curse. And you will never be Bavanda.”

The clone's expression fractured, rage folding her features like cracking glass.

She raised the dagger. “This ends now.”

She strode forward, mist curling around her.

Avynna braced herself, whispering, “Moon Goddess, if ever you watched us, please…”

The blade rose, and everyone held their breaths. Baron was still on his knees, struggling to rise but held down by whatever spell she had strewn around them.

“No…” his lips parted. "No… Avynna!"

He had never felt so helpless, never ever had to watch the person he loves stand at the edge of danger’s cliff and be able to do nothing about it.

If anything happened to Avynna… if this devil in the form of his daughter won… then, he'd never be able to forgive himself.

“Goodbye mother!” Clone Bavanda sneered, her hand moving to drive the dagger through.

All of a sudden, the great doors to the council hall slammed open, bursting with force. Wind surged inward, scattering the clone’s mist in wild gusts.

The sky above trembled, and the pack held its breath.

A voice echoed, ancient and commanding. “STOP.”

At that point, even the world came to a pause.