The wings sprouting from her back were massive, blacker than the void itself, reminiscent of a crow's but infinitely more terrifying. They unfurled completely, casting an enormous shadow over the battlefield.
I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't look away.
The woman before me was nothing like the Seraphina Blackwood I'd come to know. Her delicate face had transformed into something otherworldly—beautiful still, but in a way that made my blood run cold. Her eyes burned crimson, glowing with an ancient, terrible power.
In that moment, she wasn't human. She wasn't even a lycan.
She was death itself.
"Regina," I managed to whisper, reaching blindly for my sister who lay injured beside me. "Don't move."
