The wolf let out a slow breath, his gaze fixed on the bloodied lion, who had yet to move.
"Pride makes fools of us all, Anu," he murmured. "But today, yours cost you more than just flesh."
The birds' haunting melody swelled, sweet yet sinister, as more voices joined the chorus.
John simply watched, a smirk playing at the edges of his beak.
Tonight, the Sky Dominating Clan had taken its first bite of true dominance.
Anu the white lion remained frozen in place, his mind a void of shock. Even as the wound on his back throbbed with searing pain, he did not react. Not out of bravery. Not out of strength. But because the sight of his own flesh, torn and devoured before his eyes, had shattered something deep within him.
And the birds—those damn birds—kept singing. Sweet, melodic. A lullaby of horror.
