Rowan's POV
"What the hell is happening?" Marcus's voice cut through the mayhem, sharp with disbelief. "Those are Raven Deons, aren't they?"
The creatures that stumbled out of the thick fog bore little resemblance to the feared warriors we knew them to be. These weren't the disciplined fighters who served under Hardy's command.
They were broken. Even transformed into their wolf forms, every movement screamed of defeat. Their fur was sticky with blood, both their own and that of others. Wounds gaped across their backs and sides, some so deep that white bone gleamed through the torn flesh. One limped forward on three legs, the fourth dragging uselessly behind with what looked like a shattered joint. Another's muzzle was twisted at an impossible angle, fangs still bared but caked with dried gore.
