Ivana stepped back. With a final pulse of her aura, she sealed a mark on its soul—a freezing sigil that shimmered like a snowflake.
A brand of allegiance.
Then she exited the werewolf's mind, withdrawing her presence like the retreating tide.
—
Back in the real world, the werewolf lay unconscious, but breathing. The frost dome dissolved into drifting snowflakes. The crowd, still distant, watched in confused awe.
Ivana stepped forward, composed, her silver hair dancing in the light wind.
And the beast at her feet—now her spy.
The war had only just begun… but she had just gained her first infiltrator.
And no one—not even the Progenitor—would see it coming.
***
