The Jagged Maw was no longer a battlefield; it was an execution block.
With the Inquisitor Elite reduced to ash by my hands, the remaining Paladins of the Vanguard lost whatever fragile sliver of morale they had left. The sight of their holy fire—their ultimate weapon—being effortlessly absorbed and weaponized by a single woman shattered their religious indoctrination completely.
They broke. They threw down their golden shields, dropped their frost-shattered swords, and ran.
But you do not run from wolves. Especially not the wolves of the Shadowkeep.
"Hunt them down!" Kaelen's roar shook the snow from the canyon walls. "Leave nothing but carrion for the vultures!"
The Lycan army surged forward like a tidal wave of black steel and fangs. General Thorne and General Vane led the charge, their frost-forged weapons reaping through the retreating infantry with horrifying efficiency.
I stood at the mouth of the canyon, my chest heaving, the remnants of the white fire still crackling along my fingertips. Kaelen was suddenly beside me, his massive arm wrapping around my waist, lifting me effortlessly onto the back of a monstrous, armor-clad dire-wolf that served as his personal mount. He swung up behind me, his chest flush against my back, the reins grasped firmly in his bloody, gauntleted hands.
"We ride for the Grand Marshal," Kaelen growled into my ear, his breath hot against my neck. "Hold on, my Queen."
The dire-wolf lunged forward with terrifying speed, tearing across the frozen tundra toward the distant hill where Grand Marshal Valerius had set up his command tent.
Valerius was in a state of absolute panic. Through the gloom, I could see his heavy cavalry frantically trying to form a defensive perimeter around the towering Sun-Forged Trebuchets. But heavy cavalry was useless in the deep snow, their armored horses sinking to their knees, while Kaelen's dire-wolf skimmed over the frost like a phantom.
"Fire the trebuchets!" Valerius screamed, his voice cracking with hysteria as he saw us approaching. "Bring down the beast!"
The massive wooden siege engines groaned as the crews desperately tried to lower the firing arcs. Boulders dripping with liquid holy fire were loaded into the slings.
"They are too slow," Kaelen sneered, drawing his black broadsword.
"Let me," I said, my voice eerily calm.
I didn't wait for Kaelen to stop the mount. I leaned forward, raising my right hand toward the hill. I tapped into the vault of the White Wolf, visualizing the dense, mechanical structure of the siege engines.
Instead of an explosion, I sent a concentrated, surgical beam of absolute zero—a pure, white streak of freezing kinetic energy.
The beam hit the lead trebuchet. The holy fire in the sling was instantly extinguished. The freezing magic spread through the enchanted wood in a fraction of a second, making the timber so brittle that the sheer tension of the counterweight caused the entire machine to violently detonate.
CRACK-BOOM!
Splinters the size of broadswords rained down on the heavy cavalry, impaling men and horses alike. The destruction of the first engine triggered a chain reaction, the flying debris tearing through the mechanical gears of the other trebuchets. Within seconds, Lucius's prized artillery was reduced to a pile of frozen, useless kindling.
We crested the hill. Kaelen's dire-wolf tackled Grand Marshal Valerius's warhorse, sending the golden-armored commander flying into the mud.
Valerius scrambled backward, his pristine cape ruined, his eyes wide with a terror that stripped away every ounce of his Alpha arrogance. He reached for his sword, but Kaelen was already off the mount.
The Lycan King didn't even use his weapon. He stepped on Valerius's wrist, the sickening crunch of bone echoing loudly in the cold air. Valerius shrieked.
"You marched fifty thousand men to my door, Valerius," Kaelen said, his voice a low, demonic vibration as he looked down at the broken Marshal. "And you failed to scratch the paint on my gates."
"Mercy," Valerius sobbed, looking frantically between Kaelen and me. "King Kaelen... Luna... please. I was following orders. The Supreme Councilor forced us..."
I slid off the dire-wolf, walking slowly toward the groveling Alpha. My leather boots made no sound on the blood-soaked snow. I looked down at him, feeling absolutely nothing but cold, clinical disgust.
"An Alpha who hides behind the orders of another man is no Alpha at all," I whispered. I looked up at Kaelen, giving him a single, definitive nod.
Kaelen's fangs elongated in a predatory smile. He reached down, grabbing Valerius by the golden collar of his armor, and with one brutal, effortless motion, tore the Grand Marshal's throat out.
The Crusade was over. The Northern Reaches belonged to the wolves of the dark.