Chapter 189
Deckard
I sprint toward Austin, my heart pounding like a war drum.
“Austin! What happened? He didn’t even touch you! What the hell happened?” I demand, kneeling beside him.
He gasps, his face contorted in pain, one blood–slicked hand pressed tightly to his gut.
“It’s… not him,” he croaks, eyes wide with fear as he lifts a trembling hand and points behind me-
But there’s no one there.
I don’t need to see him to know.
Darth.
“Stay down,” I order, already rising to my feet, my senses on high alert.
Austin groans and tightens his grip on his wound. Blood pools beneath him, dark and thick.
“Where’s your gun?” I ask, looking around.
He lifts it weakly, and my stomach twists.
The barrel is bent–mangled like someone crushed it with their bare hands.
No bullet could’ve ever made it through.
How is that even possible?
Then I realize.
Magic.
*Damn it…” I mutter under my breath. “Stay down, Austin. Don’t move. I’ll handle this.”
I scan the fog–searching, listening.
Movement catches my eye. The wolf whose leg I shattered earlier now lies in a heap–but he’s no longer a wolf.
He’s shifted. Human again. And as the mist clears, I finally see his face.
It is Ivar.
What? Why the hell was he fighting me? He’s one of us. He’s supposed to be on our side.
“Oh, George is going to lose it,” 1 mutter.
Almost immifcately George rushes forward.
He drops to his knees beside Ivar.
“Ivar! Alpha Ivar–what happened, my love? Who did this to you?” he roars, panic and fury in his voice.
Ivar points a bloodied finger at me.
George’s eyes flick to mine, wide with disbelief.
“Deckard? No.. that’s not possible. You’re on our side.”
I shake my head, barely holding onto my patience There’s no time for this! Brace yourself, George,” I snapped. “He’s coming.”
Out of the thinning fog stepped Darth.
His massive form emerged like a demon from a nightmare. Blood streaked down his chest and smeared across his torso like war paint. He was sharties, wounded–brut unshaken. The gashes on his body only made him look more monstrous.
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His eyes burned. No longer just red–but black around the edges, wild and hateful, like the very darkness of the world had seeped into his soul. “So…” he drawled, lips curling into a maniacal grin.
“You think you can kill me?”
He let out a twisted laugh, the sound echoing unnaturally through the clearing.
“I see you’ve been practicing since the first time I killed you. How noble. How foolish.”
He spat blood to the side.
“This time, you won’t get the chance to crawl back. I’ll dismember your body and feast on your bones before the sun sets!”
Beside him, she emerged–Cleopatra.
Silent. Her voice rose in that eerie whisper, weaving damn spells.
Austin lay on the ground, bleeding but conscious, eyes wide with horror.
George stood now with rage.
You bastard!” George roared, voice cracking with fury. “You dare lay a hand on my Alpha?!” he yells the moment he sees Darth.
Without a second thought, he launched forward, pure rage propelling his every step.
“No! George, stop!” I shouted–but I was too late.
Darth moved like lightning.
+20)
In the blink of an eye, his clawed hand shot out, snatching George mid–air by the oat. George kicked and thrashed, but Darth held him like he was weightless. His claws dug in. Blood began to spill.
Then, with a sickening, unnatural strength, Darth yanked his other hand across George’s abdomen, and tore him open–spine to gut.
Blood exploded in the air, splattering across Darth’s face. He grinned, smeared in blood, looking even more demonic than before–like a creature from the deepest pits of hell. George’s body dropped lifeless to the ground,
1 froze–rage coursing through every inch of me.
I don’t think.
I just run.
I charge at Darth with a roar that shook the earth–but then the air shifted. That whispering. That damn whispering.
Cleopatra.
Her voice slithered through the wind like venom, a chant twisted in a language not of this world. I felt the atmosphere thicken, my legs growing heavy, the wind pulling against me like invisible chains.
But I fought it–with fire in my veins and fury in my bones.
Still, Darth advanced.
Cleopatra moved beside him, her eyes glowing with unnatural energy, and placed a sword into his hand.
And then–he stands in front of me.
He stabs me.
The blade plunges straight into my chest, tearing through muscle and bone like parchment. My breath hitched. The pain was instant–and worse, it wasn’t just physical
Something is entering my bloodstream.
Something dark, just like before
I gasp, stumbling backward, the world spinning. My legs gave out. My vision blurred.
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Chapter 189
I fall
But I couldn’t stay down.
in the midst of blood and fire and death–Freys appeared.
she kneels beside me, her voice cutting through the fog like sunlight through storm clouds.
“You are the dragon itself,” she whispers, her hand over my heart. “Let your fire burn.”
Her voice ignited something in me.
A spark–no, a storm.
“I am the dragon itself,” I whispered back, my eyes glowing gold, my body trembling as flames surged from my core.
I feel weightless. Lifted by something unseen, an ancient power older than time itself. My body is broken, bleeding–but rising. My eyes fluttered open and there she was.
Freya.
“You are the dragon itself,” she whispered, her voice soft yet absolute, echoing like a prophecy carved into the heavens. “Let your fire burn.”
And I believed her.
Because the fire was already there–coiled deep inside me, aching to be released.
“I am the dragon itself,” 1 growled, and at that moment, I felt the ignition.
A pulse began in my chest, and then it exploded.
Flames surged from my eyes, tracing across my skin like molten veins. My heart thundered. My feet no longer touched the ground. My fire- unstoppable.
I lifted my hand and unleashed it.
A column of pure dragonfire erupted, roaring toward Darth and Cleopatra.
Bu Darth, that coward, vanished into the mist–disappearing before the flames could find him.
Cleopatra stayed.
She raised her arms chanting. A dark magical shield bloomed around her, absorbing the brunt of my fire. It shimmered violet and black, resisting the heat like it had been forged in nightmares.
Her voice grew louder. Fiercer. I felt her trying to pull the fire from me, to steal it again.
But I snarled,
“You cannot take the fire from the dragon!”
Then I heard Freya’s voice join mine. Her chants weaved through the air, locking against Cleopatra’s with fierce precision.
Suddenly, Cleopatra’s tone shifted.
Her chants turned guttural, corrupted. She no longer sounded like a witch.
She sounded like a demon.
The sky responded.
A thick wind stirred. An eerie, chilling how! rippled across the battlefield. Then–they came.
Wolves
They emerged in, maybe more. I couldn’t count them fast enough
At first, they looked like ordinary wolves–brutal, angry, savage. But then I looked closer.
They shouldn’t be alive.
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Some had massive, gaping holes in their chests, exposing broken ribs and torn lungs.
Others dragged shattered legs behind them, the bones splintered and jutting out at weird angles. A few still had their intestines trailing behind, tangled and dragging through the ground like a ribbon
These weren’t just any wolves.
They were dead.
Dead werewolves.
And Cleopatra–that witch–had brought them back. Her hands were lifted high, her eyes glowing with the same vile darkness I saw when she tried to steal my fire.
The undead pack didn’t hesitate. They snarled, barked, and charged straight at us.
With a roar, I turned my flame on them–pure dragonfire igniting the field. The air grew thick with heat, screams, and the awful stench of burning fur and flesh. One by one, they lit up like kindling, the fire reducing their cursed bodies to ashes
And then–1 remember Ivar.
He wasn’t near us. He couldn’t run.
His leg–I had broken it.
“No!” I turned, heart pounding.
But it was too late.
A small cluster of the undead wolves had broken through the flames and reached him…
I watched in horror as they descended on him, their jagged teeth tearing into his flesh while he was still alive, ripping him apart piece by piece.
He didn’t scream.
That somehow made it worse.
Guilt slammed into me like a boulder. That was my fault.
All that was left of them were scorched bones and ashes.
I looked toward Ivar’s body–what was left of it.
“I’m sorry.” I whhisper.
I walk slowly toward Cleopatra but She doesn’t flinch.
Her body is tired but those eyes–those vicious, defiant eyes–are still burning with hate. She’s not giving up. Not yet
“If you keep going like this.” I growl, voice low, “you will be next.”
I glance around, scanning the shadows, sniffing for blood, power, him.
“Darth!”
My voice tears through the battlefield.
“Where are you, you bastard? Come out and take your death like a man!”
Silence answers me.
Cleopatra remains still–cerily quiet. Watching. Waiting, I don’t know what she’s planning, but I can feel it
“Deckard!”
The voice cuts through the stroke
1 freeze
It’s a voice I know
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I turn and through the haze, I see him–Collin. Bloodied, bruised, but very much alive. Standing there with his chest heaving, his hand on his hip like some tragic hero past his prime.
“Why are you after my son’s life?!” he roars. “What the hell has he done to you–apart from trying to take what truly belongs to him?”
I blink. “…Collin?”
My heart stutters, confusion blooming in my chest.
His son?
What the hell is he talking about?
Before I can even wrap my head around it, he plants his feet firmly in the ash and declares, “To get through Darth, you must go through me!”
I don’t hesitate.
“Gladly.”
In speed, I close the space between us and grab him by the throat, lifting him clean off the ground with one hand. He snarls, swinging claws at me, slashing wildly. But I barely feel them.
I stare into his eyes–searching. Searching for a reason not to end him right here.
For a second, I find nothing but desperation.
But then–I remember.
I know the truth now.
Collin–he had a hand in my mother’s death. Him, and that vile woman who gave birth to Darth. They helped make it happen.
The rage inside me spikes, hotter than my flames.
With a roar, I fling him like a ragdoll, his body crashing into a stone pillar with a sickening crack. I hear bones snap, and Then he gets up.
Breathing like a beast, eyes burning, his body trembles as it begins to shift. Claws burst from his hands, fur tears through his skin, and in one fluid, violent motion–he becomes the wolf.
He charges.
But before he can reach me, something faster intervenes.
Leonard.
His white wolf form descends like a divine judgment, claws sinking deep into Collin’s back and dragging him down mid–leap. Collin hits the earth hard, howling in agony. He tries to roll, to defend, but he’s too slow.
Leonard shows no mercy.
He tears through him–gut to chest–and then, with a final snarl, his jaws clamp down and rip Collin’s throat from his neck. The head falls to the side like a discarded mask.
Then-
“What kind of Alpha are you?!” Cleopatra screams,
“You’ve killed everyone! That was a father defending his son! You’re heartless! He has no one now! No one but me!”
She steps forward, face twisted with rage and sorrow, arms raised.
Tll show you what it means to have someone powerful standing behind you, you wicked, empty Alpha!”
Her voice deepens, laced with ancient venom, and she begins to move unnaturally, her limbs bending as she chants in a language I don’t recognize. The sky darkens instantly. The wind howls. The clouds churn.
Then they come.
Rats. Bloodsucking and shrieking.
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Ravens–eyes red, claws sharp, screeching from the heavens.
They pour from the skies like a flood of nightmares, swarming us from the north and south, attacking with fury. I try to fight them off, but they close in, surrounding me like a cloak, whispering madness into my ears.
My mind begins to slip. The whispers claw into my sanity.
I’m losing it
1 can barely hear Freya behind me, invoking her own magic to push back, to anchor me, but my focus is elsewhere.
grit my teeth, shaking, growling Cleopatra is draining me, just like before–but Freya, I can feel her pulling back. Fighting it. Fighting for me.
And I’ve had enough.
I’m done being a puppet for witches and manipulators.
I’m done.
I throw my head back and let out a roar that cracks the air, and I ignite–a blazing inferno erupting from deep within me.
The birds vanish in flame, the darkness pushed back by my light.
I’m no longer man. No longer wolf.
I am fire.
I can’t see anything else–just flames. Endless, beautiful, terrible fire. My body is moving, yet still. I’m conscious, yet drifting.
I am fire.
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