Chapter 5: The Wolves’ Deceit
The air in Purgatory was thick with tension as Annie, Lilith, and the other witches moved cautiously through the desolate landscape.
The ever-present crimson glow of the realm cast eerie shadows across the barren land, making every movement seem more ominous.
They were deep in enemy territory now, and though their mission was one of diplomacy, the weight of past betrayals made every step feel like a battle waiting to happen.
Unbeknownst to them, Menma followed at a safe distance, his sharp eyes locked on the group. He wasn't one for careful planning, but something about this mission unsettled him. The way Annie had spoken about Lyra. —something was wrong, and he was determined to figure out what.
Ahead, the witches reached a vast, jagged rock formation that marked the entrance to the werewolf den. It was a place of power, carved into the very essence of Purgatory itself, its walls pulsing faintly as if alive.
Just as Annie stepped forward to call for Lyra, three werewolves emerged from the darkness, blocking their path. Their eyes gleamed with an unnatural hunger, their bodies tense with barely restrained aggression.
Annie's gaze hardened. "We're here to see Lyra."
The werewolf in the center, a tall, battle-worn figure with dark fur and a scar across his face, let out a low growl. "She's not here."
Lilith's sharp eyes narrowed. "That's a lie."
The three werewolves shifted, their forms rigid with silent malice. Their leader, Zarrek, stepped forward. "Lyra's not available," he growled, his voice low and guttural. "And you witches should leave."
The second werewolf, a hulking brute with silver eyes named Torak, cracked his knuckles. His presence was almost suffocating, his body built like a wall of muscle and fury. "You think we'll let you walk into our den without consequences?"