Chapter 90 The Forsaken King’sWrath

　　Third Person POV 　　The air shifted. 　　As Caitlyn turned from Raymond’s side, the ground beneath her feet trembled once, then again, harder. A deep, thrumming vibration built from beneath the ruins of Eldoria, echoing through the stone and soil like the slow, monstrous heartbeat of something ancient. Cracks formed in the earth, splitting open like veins of darkness. Dust spiraled into the air, choking the battlefield with the scent of scorched earth and death. 　　Then, without warning, the land ruptured. 　　A jagged tear split the ruins apart, sending debris flying as a force unlike any they had ever known burst forth. The very air seemed to scream. A guttural, unearthly shriek cut through the battlefield—deeper than the Abyss Wolf’s roar, lower, more primal, vibrating through every bone and muscle. The sky overhead twisted into a blood-stained spiral, the fading glow of the Blood Moon pulsing like a wounded eye, casting eerie shadows upon the carnage below. 　　From the heart of the broken land, Kieran rose. 　　No longer merely a man. 　　Gone were his blackened robes, his golden eyes, his smirk that had haunted every battlefield. In their place stood a towering, wolf-like deity, his form pulsing with godly corruption. Shadowy tendrils streamed from his back like wings made of smoke and fangs, each twitch birthing a cry of anguish from the ground beneath him. His eyes—no longer gold—were pits of burning red, locked onto Caitlyn with inhuman hunger. 　　“Moonborn,” his voice rumbled—not spoken but felt, a psychic pressure that pressed against the inside of their skulls. “Your time has ended.” 　　Caitlyn didn’t flinch. Her fingers curled around the ruined Hollow Fang tome, now nothing more than ashes in her satchel. 　　“So have your lies.” 　　Around her, the werewolves rose, wounded but not broken. Selene, bloodied and limping, joined her side. Raymond struggled to his feet, jaw clenched, eyes fierce. Kane stood opposite his mother, his silver aura beginning to shimmer again, while Jane’s eyes gleamed like twin stars behind her blood-smeared face. 　　The Forsaken King took a single step forward. 　　And twenty wolves dropped dead. 　　No sound. No claws. No magic. 　　Their life force simply drained, sucked upward into the tendrils now coiling and writhing in delight. 　　Caitlyn’s eyes widened. “He’s feeding on them—” 　　“He’s absorbing werewolf energy,” Selene snapped, backing up. “Their souls—he’s making himself a god.” 　　Raymond bared his teeth. “Then let’s rip him off his throne.” 　　He lunged—fast, reckless—and was batted away like a fly. A tendril caught him mid-air, slamming him into the ground with such force the earth cracked. He groaned but got up again, staggering. 　　“Nice shot,” he wheezed, wiping blood from his mouth. “Do it again. I dare you.” 　　Kieran’s voice filled the air once more, louder, deeper. “You are insects crawling in the ruins of a world you never understood.” 　　Lightning struck the battlefield. The Forsaken King stepped forward again. 　　More wolves dropped, screaming. 　　Kane let out a roar of defiance. 　　Silver exploded from him, a wild, blinding storm of light and darkness, the duality of Moonborn and Forsaken bloodlines igniting inside him at once. Tendrils lashed at him—burned and recoiled. The power inside him began to coalesce, no longer wild, no longer just inherited. 　　His power. His choice. 　　“I’m not your puppet,” Kane hissed, taking a step forward. “I’m not anyone’s vessel.” 　　Kieran’s tendrils shrieked as they lunged—but Jane appeared beside him, her voice shaking the very wind. 　　“Lux in Umbra—Flamma Mundi!” 　　The old tongue echoed across the battlefield. 　　Jane lifted her hands to the heavens. A silver-white fire erupted from her palms, cutting through the sky, slashing into Kieran’s chest. The deity reeled back for the first time, roaring—one arm severed by divine flame, disintegrating into ash. 　　Selene saw her chance. “Now! While he’s staggered!” 　　Caitlyn moved, faster than thought. She reached Raymond, who thrust the hilt of his broken blade into her hands. She pressed it against her palm, slicing her skin. Blood mixed with magic. 　　She began the ritual. 　　Kane panted beside her. “The final prophecy… it’s real, isn’t it?” 　　Jane looked at Caitlyn, her voice unsteady. “She has to bind him… or destroy him.” 　　“But either way…” Kane’s voice cracked. “It ends her.” 　　Raymond turned to Caitlyn, blood in his teeth. “No.” 　　She didn’t meet his eyes. 　　“I swore I’d protect you,” he said, stepping forward. “Not the world. You.” 　　“Then help me,” she said softly. “Just once more.” 　　A tendril struck toward them—but Kane intercepted it, both palms raised. “I’ll hold him.” 　　Caitlyn moved into the final circle. 　　Light burst from the ground. The shadows screamed. 　　The Forsaken King roared, his body unraveling—writhing tendrils splitting apart into fangs and mouths and limbs— 　　And then Jane screamed. 　　Her body arched back, the Silver Flame rising higher than ever before. “I’m sorry, Caitlyn!” 　　She hurled herself into the circle. 　　“No!” Caitlyn cried—but it was too late. 　　Jane’s sacrifice ignited the binding circle into a nova of pure light. Kieran shrieked, disintegrating under the force, his final form shredding into ash as the tendrils tried to escape— 　　But there was no escape. 　　The light consumed it all. 　　Caitlyn fell to her knees, the ritual complete. 　　Silence fell over the battlefield. 　　Moonlight returned. 　　The Forsaken King was no more. 　　But Caitlyn did not rise. Raymond reached her first. 　　Her chest still moved—barely. 　　The prophecy had not demanded death. 　　Only sacrifice. Her wolf was gone. She was human now. 　　And she was weeping for the girl who had burned herself alive to save them all.