š©šš„ššš¢š¦š¢š«šŖ
The air combusted with power.
Ragnar shifted first into a blur of muscle and fur that tore through his human form like paper. His wolf was massive, easily the size of a bear, with a pelt the color of storm clouds and eyes like chips of amber ice. He hit the ground on all fours, and the impact sent dust billowing.
His howl shook the ruins.
Silas didn't shift.
For a heartbeat, I thought he'd made a catastrophic errorāfacing a fully shifted wolf in human form was near-suicidal unless you were an Alpha-class fighter.
Then the shadows moved but not around Silas.
With him.
They peeled away from the columns, from the crevices in the stone, drawn like smoke to his outstretched hands. When Ragnar lunged, all teeth and fully unleashed fury, Silas moved. He was not running nor dodging.
He stepped through the space where Ragnar's jaws snapped shut, and reappeared three feet to the left, shadows still clinging to his form like living armor.
