The first sounds of the attack came as a faint, distant rumble, so subtle that I might have mistaken it for a dream, if not for the way the ground seemed to tremble beneath me. I jolted awake, the deep warmth of Mathew's body beside mine grounding me in the waking world. His steady breathing, the soft rise and fall of his chest, was all I had known moments before, but now something felt wrong.

The rumble grew louder, unmistakable. My heart raced as I turned toward him. Mathew was already awake, his eyes meeting mine in the dim light of the early dawn.

"Did you hear that?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, still thick with sleep.

Mathew didn't answer right away. He sat up in bed, his movements fluid and practiced. He'd felt it too. His hand was already reaching for his sword on the bedside table. I could see the tightness in his jaw, the quiet focus that had become his nature when danger was near. The familiar scent of his skin, warm and comforting, felt out of place now, as though we were in another world entirely—one where everything we had worked for could crumble in an instant.

"Get up," Mathew urged, his voice low but commanding as he slid off the bed. "Something's wrong."

I swung my legs over the side, standing shakily as my heart pounded in my chest. The panic began to spread, but it wasn't the kind that paralyzed—it was the kind that made everything sharp and immediate. We didn't need to speak the words—we both knew.

The rumble grew into a steady thud, now unmistakably the sound of boots, heavy and relentless, marching toward us. This wasn't just the usual stirrings of the village. I glanced out the window, already knowing what I would see.

The first glint of metal caught my eye—shiny armor reflecting the faint light of dawn, moving swiftly through the southern border. They were here. Kendrik's forces had breached our defenses, and they were marching on the village from the south.

Without a word, Mathew and I rushed into action, pulling on our armor in the dim light, moving with practiced urgency. I could hear the sounds of the village stirring outside, confused voices calling out, the distant rumble of chaos beginning to unfold. Most of the villagers were still asleep, unaware that the very threat we'd been bracing for had arrived—quietly, in the dead of morning, when we were weakest.

"Mathew," I said, my voice sharp with a mixture of fear and disbelief as we made our way to the door. "How did they get through? The northern wall was supposed to be the priority."

Mathew's eyes met mine, filled with urgency but without hesitation. "They found a way in. They're here now. We need to get out there."

We sprinted out the door, joining the scrambling chaos of the village. Soldiers in armor, Lycans shifting into their battle forms, humans stumbling to arm themselves—it was a whirlwind of noise and confusion. But Mathew and I didn't stop. We moved together, focused only on the immediate threat, the pounding of our feet in sync with the rumble of the approaching enemy.

The southern wall—barely guarded in the quiet hours of morning—had been breached. The first blast of explosive force had opened a gap wide enough for Kendrik's soldiers to pour through, and now we were caught in the chaos of the breach.

"Move, now!" Mathew shouted, already pulling ahead of me, his command clear and unwavering. He led the charge, but I could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on both of us. We weren't ready. The village wasn't ready.

By the time we reached the southern border, Kendrik's forces were already among us, the glint of their shiny armor flashing as they surged into the village. I could hear the cries of villagers being caught in the first wave, the clash of steel against steel, the howls of the Lycans as they transformed and joined the fray.

Mathew was at the front, his sword drawn, rallying those who had gathered. I stood beside him, gripping my own blade tightly, though the shock of the sudden attack made it hard to focus. The village was chaos—no time for preparation, no time for a plan. Just fight, just survive.

As the battle raged on, I fought with everything I had, but the chaos of it all made everything feel as though it was happening in slow motion. To my right, my soldiers were a whirlwind of steel and skill, their movements fluid and precise as they battled through the ranks of Kendrik's forces. Kalim, with his dark skin and thick beard, was a force to be reckoned with. His sword flashed as he cut through the enemy, each swing calculated and deadly. He moved with a soldier's discipline, focused on protecting the villagers who were caught in the panic, his broad frame a shield against the attacking soldiers.

Daniel, the younger of the two, moved like lightning beside him, his dirty-blond hair whipping around his face as he darted in and out of combat, his twin blades carving a deadly path through their enemies. His agile movements were in stark contrast to Kalim's sheer power, but together they were unstoppable, like two sides of the same coin, complementing each other perfectly. With every swipe, every thrust, Daniel seemed to be everywhere at once, deflecting blows and cutting down the attackers before they could get too close to the villagers.

Then there was Kirigan, older than both Kalim and Daniel, but no less dangerous. His striking blue eyes seemed to burn with an intensity that matched the fury of his strikes. He was a warrior at his core—calm, but fierce in his approach. His broad frame, muscular and solid, moved with surprising speed as he blocked attacks and retaliated with well-placed strikes, his sword cleaving through armor with ease. Kirigan was a force of nature, standing firm to protect those behind him. Every move was deliberate, every strike calculated, as he took down one attacker after another with ruthless precision.

Together, they fought with a quiet intensity, ensuring that the villagers could make it to safety, holding back the tide of soldiers pouring into the village. They were a shield in the chaos, their skill and experience allowing them to keep the worst of the attackers at bay, but the battle was far from over.

Meanwhile, I could hear the sounds of the battle shifting to the village wall, where Luke, Sam, and Frej had joined forces to hold the line. The tension was thick in the air, the pressure mounting as more of Kendrik's soldiers streamed toward the entrance.

Luke stood tall with his golden eyes burning with determination. His powerful frame was a sight to behold as he shifted mid-battle, claws unsheathed, and lunged at the approaching enemies with a snarl. He moved like a blur, his strength and speed overwhelming anyone who dared to challenge him. He fought with an unrelenting fury, not just protecting the wall but pushing back the attackers with each brutal swipe.

Beside him, Sam and Frej were like shadows, moving swiftly in sync, their tactics honed by years of battle. Sam, the Beta, was calm under pressure, his eyes sharp as he strategized in the heat of the moment, directing Frej to where the attack was most intense. Frej, as always, followed with unwavering loyalty, his movements smooth and lethal, taking down any enemy foolish enough to get too close. Together, they held the line, forcing back the oncoming wave, but it was clear that the wall was under serious threat.

I could feel the weight of it all—the pressure of the village's survival resting not just on Mathew and me, but on every one of them. My soldiers kept pushing forward, their focus on clearing a path and shielding the villagers, while the lycans did everything they could to hold the line at the wall.

The tide of the battle seemed to shift, even if only for a moment. For a heartbeat, it felt like we were on the cusp of victory. Kirigans group had pushed the enemy back, their swords slick with blood, their movements swift and deadly as they cleared the way. The Lycans at the village wall, led by Sam, were holding their ground, their strength unwavering as they kept the attackers at bay. The air was thick with smoke, the scent of blood and burning timber hanging heavy, but there was a flicker of hope—just a flicker.

Then, just as quickly as the moment of control had come, it was snuffed out. Kendrik's forces, relentless and determined, surged forward again, pouring over the earth in wave after wave. It felt like an endless flood, no matter how many we cut down. My sword dripped with blood, the weight of it heavier with each swing. My arms burned, my legs ached with exhaustion, but I didn't stop. I couldn't.

I wiped the sweat from my brow, the grime of the battlefield caked on my skin. The adrenaline that had kept me moving was starting to falter, and with it, the creeping doubt that had been gnawing at me since the first wave of soldiers arrived took hold. My heart hammered in my chest, loud and frantic, making it hard to hear anything other than the pounding in my ears. I searched the field desperately for Mathew, but the chaos had swallowed him up.

Where was he?

I fought my way through the crowd, cutting down another soldier who lunged at me, but my gaze never stopped searching. The familiar sight of Mathew—his steadfast presence, his calming strength—was nowhere to be found. I felt the knot of panic tighten in my gut.

Gabrielle. Matilda. Lynn. Where were they? I had seen Angela, her fierce spirit and quick reflexes making her a blur of movement on the battlefield. She could take care of herself, I knew that. But Penelope—quiet, shy Penelope—had she found somewhere to hide? What about Lynn, with her agile grace? I couldn't see any of them in the madness, and the thought gnawed at me.

I gripped my sword tighter, my knuckles white against the hilt. I couldn't stop now—not with the battle still raging, not with my people still in danger. But the thought of losing them, of not knowing where they were in the midst of this chaos, was a weight I couldn't shake.

I cut down another soldier, his blood spraying across my face, but I didn't feel the triumph I should have. Instead, I felt a hollow emptiness as I looked again for Mathew, my heart pounding harder with each passing second.

Where the hell was he?

I fought on, my movements becoming less sharp, less precise, as fatigue set in. The enemy didn't stop coming, and neither did we, but it was getting harder to keep my footing in the thick of the madness. But still, I couldn't give up.

Not while I still had breath in my body. Not while they needed me.

But I couldn't shake the gnawing fear—where was Mathew?

The battle raged on, a brutal cacophony of clashing steel, shouts, and the sickening thud of bodies hitting the ground. The village, once a place of new beginnings, had become a warzone, and the people who had sought refuge here were now fighting for their lives, their hands stained with the same blood that soaked the earth beneath them.

I caught sight of them—my people—fighting side by side with the Lycans, their faces hardened with desperation but determined. They had no weapons beyond what they could find, but it didn't matter. They fought with whatever they had, their movements uncoordinated but fierce. The men and women who had once fled from their own homes now stood shoulder to shoulder with the soldiers, doing what they could to defend the place they had come to call home. And Kirigan, doing his best trying to organize them.

A young man swung a shovel, knocking a soldier off balance, while an older woman with wild eyes jabbed at another with the sharp end of a broken hammer. They were untrained, their bodies unfamiliar with the rhythm of combat, but they fought with a primal urgency that I couldn't help but admire. Their fear was palpable, but so was their resolve.

I heard a woman scream, her voice raw with panic, and I turned just in time to see one of the Lycans leap forward, slashing through the air with a growl that sent several attackers retreating. The refugees cheered, their spirits lifted for a moment, but it didn't last. There were too many of them—too many of Kendrik's soldiers. They were relentless, pushing forward like a tide, forcing the refugees and our allies back.

And yet, there was no hesitation in the eyes of the villagers. The Lycans were fighting, yes, but they weren't alone. The people who had come here seeking safety, looking for a place to rebuild their lives, were fighting just as fiercely as any soldier. It was a sight that made my heart swell with pride, even as my chest tightened with fear.

I glanced over to my right again, eyes scanning the crowd for Mathew, but the sea of bodies and chaos swallowed him whole. I could barely catch my breath before I was forced to swing my sword again, cutting down another soldier who had tried to break through the defenses. Blood spattered across my face, but I hardly noticed. I was lost in the motion, lost in the fight. The fear for my people, for my home, for Mathew—it was all too much to hold at once.

One of the refugees—a tall man with a weathered face—fell beside me, his chest struck by a sword. He gasped, blood trickling from his lips as he tried to rise, but his legs gave out. I knelt beside him, trying to help, but he pushed me away, his eyes wide with fear. "Protect them," he rasped, his voice thick with pain. "Protect my family."

I swallowed hard, nodding even though the words felt too heavy to speak. There was no time for words. Only action. Only the fight.

But as I rose to continue, I saw him—Mathew. He was on the other side of the clearing, his movements swift and precise as he cut down enemy soldiers with a steady grace. My heart skipped a beat, but the moment was fleeting. He was still out there, still fighting. That was all that mattered.

Then, the tide shifted. I saw the numbers. Too many soldiers. Kendrik's forces were everywhere, closing in from all sides. The Lycans and refugees, weary and battered, struggled to hold the line, but they were being overwhelmed. My blood ran cold as I scanned the battlefield, several soldiers moved in unison towards the Alpha. Mathew. He was surrounded.

My breath caught in my throat, and panic clawed at my chest. There was no time to think, no time to plan. I was too far away, and he was outnumbered. My heart pounded hard in my chest, each beat a drum of terror. I could see him, his sword swinging, trying to fend off the soldiers pressing in around him, but they were too many, and the strain was visible. He was slowing.

I couldn't move fast enough. The world narrowed around me, the distant shouts and screams fading into an agonizing silence that was filled only with the sound of my own pulse, thudding in my ears. I reached out to him with my mind, desperate for any sign that he was still there, still fighting.

No. That was it. I wasn't fast enough. He was slipping.

I felt it then, a surge deep within me. The familiar burn of magic—wild, untamed, and chaotic. But this... this was different. The magic was no longer mine to control. It roared to life, a force that surged through me like a tidal wave, consuming everything in its path. I tried to fight it, to hold it back, but the anger, the fear, the panic—it was too much. The power within me broke free.

In an instant, the world around me twisted, the magic flooding the battlefield, sweeping across the soldiers like a storm. Dark tendrils of energy lashed out, tearing through the enemy ranks. I felt their bodies go limp, their energy drained as the magic tore them apart, disintegrating them into nothingness.

But as the magic ripped through them, it didn't touch my allies. It spared them, its fury reserved only for Kendrik's forces. The soldiers fell to the ground in heaps, their bodies scattered and torn apart by the raw power that surged from me. I could feel their life forces draining away, could feel the power I wielded consuming them until there was nothing left but ash.

I couldn't stop it. I couldn't control it. The energy within me pulsed with such force, I thought my body might shatter under the strain. My arms trembled, my hands still outstretched as I willed the magic to cease, but it continued, tearing through the enemy, leaving nothing but devastation behind.

And then, finally, it began to fade. The magic that had consumed me drained from my body, leaving me hollow and empty. My breath came in ragged gasps, and my legs buckled beneath me. The battlefield, once filled with chaos and bloodshed, now lay eerily still. My allies were still standing, but I could barely register their movements through the haze of exhaustion that clouded my mind.

I stumbled forward, searching for Mathew, but my vision blurred. Everything around me felt distant and far away. The weight of my own body seemed too heavy to bear. My legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the ground, the world spinning around me.

Mathew was still out there, still living, but I couldn't see him. The darkness that had consumed the soldiers now began to close in on me, my exhaustion pulling me under. My body ached, every inch of me screaming for rest, for relief.

The last thing I saw was the flicker of movement near the edge of the clearing—Mathew, his figure a beacon of strength amidst the chaos. But then the world around me faded into darkness, and I was lost to it.

Everything went quiet.