The battlefield trembled beneath the warlock monster's awakening. Its form was colossal—twisted limbs of shadow and fire, ancient runes etched deep into its skin, pulsing with red light. Its eyes were glowing voids, soulless yet filled with centuries of rage and magic.
Callista stood her ground, wind and energy swirling around her. Lucien was beside her, bloodied but unbroken, while Elira hovered just behind them, her magic weaving a protective barrier.
"This thing was sealed by the ancients for a reason," Elira whispered, horror in her voice. "It wasn't just dark—it was chaos incarnate."
"And now Sabrina's unsealed it," Lucien growled. "Perfect."
The creature let out a guttural roar that shattered the air, its magic rippling across the battlefield like a wave of death. Witches and werewolves alike scrambled, some fleeing, others turning to defend.
Callista stepped forward.
"No one else can stop it," she said. "I can feel it—it's tied to me."
Elira nodded grimly. "Because you're both. Wolf and witch. You're what the ancients couldn't foresee... the balance."
Lucien looked at her, his hand gripping hers. "Then we'll face it together."
Callista glanced at him, emotion welling up. "Not together, Lucien. This part… I have to do alone."
Before he could protest, she kissed him—firm, full of promise—and then stepped into the circle of runes once more. Her aura exploded outward, golden threads and red fire dancing together in harmony. Her transformation was complete: no longer torn between two worlds, but embodying both.
The monster charged.
Callista raised both hands, drawing magic from the earth and sky. Spells spilled from her lips, glowing sigils surrounding her. The monster's blast hit her shield, but she held strong, staggering only slightly.
Then, from deep within her chest, a howl emerged—not a scream of pain, but a declaration of war. Her wolf roared in unison with her magic, and for the first time, the monster staggered.
The air cracked with power as Callista summoned the sealing ritual. The runes around her ignited, ancient glyphs burning brighter than the stars. She reached toward the monster, and in a moment of silence, its gaze locked with hers.
And it paused.
Because it recognized her.
Not as prey—but as a descendant of those who sealed it.
As its end.
"Your time is over," she whispered.
She raised her arms and released the spell. A shockwave of golden-red magic surged forward, engulfing the creature.
It roared in agony, resisting, but it was no use.
The sealing had begun.