Lyander launched forward with primal force, barreling into Kaius and driving him to the ground with a deafening slam.
Dust and grass exploded into the air as the two hit the earth, but when the haze cleared, it was Lyander who stood—chest heaving, battered but victorious—his paw pressed firmly on Kaius's throat.
The field fell into silence.
Not a single wolf moved.
Not even the shamans.
And Liora? She kept her hands calmly resting on the soil. Her magic had already faded, withdrawn beneath the earth like it had never stirred.
No one noticed. No one could notice as they were into the fight. But her heart was pounding from the thrill, the risk . . . and the overwhelming relief.
Kaius coughed under Lyander's paw.
"Finish it," he snarled, wheezing.
But Lyander didn't move.
