CURSED BY MOON, BOUNDED BY BLOOD
chapter 25
The clearing remains eerily quiet, a vacuum of sound where the battle's chaos once reigned. The massive tree, a symbol of power and corruption, lies in splintered halves, its glowing roots crumbled into ashen tendrils. A faint hum of residual magic lingers in the air, crackling like static. Shadows that once writhed and whispered now lie dormant, dissipating into nothingness.
Lily stands at the epicenter of the devastation, her hands trembling as she slowly lowers them, wisps of fading magic still curling around her fingers. Her breaths come in ragged gasps, the weight of what’s transpired bearing down on her. Patrick, still in his wolf form, limps to her side. His fur is streaked with shadowy residue, and his amber eyes gleam with quiet concern. Grimalkin hops gracefully from its perch on a jagged branch, its tone uncharacteristically subdued.
Grimalkin
(softly, almost reverent)
“Well, cub, I’d say you’ve made quite the impression.”
lily
(staring at the ground, voice hollow)
“It’s over… isn’t it?”
patrick
(transitioning back into human form with a pained grunt, his voice hoarse)
“Almost.”
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