As the warning cry echoed through the air, every werewolf tensed, bodies lowering instinctively, ready to leap skyward at a moment's notice. Above them, the sky burned a deep crimson, stained like blood at dusk. From the distant fortress, the vampires began to emerge—dark shapes rising like a storm of bats, circling high above before sweeping toward the battlefield in a deadly wave. Their numbers were overwhelming, dense enough to blot out the red sky, turning it pitch black.
Growls and snarls rippled through the werewolves as their fangs elongated and claws extended, every muscle coiled with anticipation. Meanwhile, Zion and his team moved into position near the edge of the dark forest—an eerie stretch of trees that looked dead and charred, their twisted limbs as black as coal. The forest offered little cover, no real place to hide.
