The cavern trembled beneath their feet.
The Priestess stood at the far end, robes swirling as her army tightened formation behind her—dozens of crimson-clad acolytes, each armed with spears humming with blood-forged energy.
Leo's claws glowed fiercely.
The Beastlord cracked his neck, silver aura swirling like a storm.
And behind Leo—half-conscious, shaking, but refusing to fall—Amaya steadied herself on the stone, her golden cracks pulsing with faint light.
The three of them glowed: gold, white, and silver.
A dangerous union.
An impossible one.
One that should not exist.
The Priestess narrowed her red eyes.
"This changes nothing," she hissed.
"You can't protect her from what she is."
Leo bared his teeth.
"I can protect her from you."
His aura exploded outward, a shockwave of white fire rippling through the cavern.
The nearest acolytes were thrown off their feet.
