Failed ambush

Few hours later, the Shadowheart pack resumed their duties. The sun was high, casting dappled shadows through the dense canopy of the woods where Zyra often trained. She felt a strange atmosphere lingering in the air, a sense of foreboding that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Yet, she was prepared.

Zyra had been pushing her limits, honing her tribid abilities. The combination of her Lycan strength, witch powers, and vampire agility made her a formidable opponent. She was in the middle of practicing a new spell, weaving fire and earth together, when a rustle in the bushes caught her attention.

“Marcus, do you feel that?” Zyra asked, her voice low and alert.

Marcus, who had been observing her training with a mixture of pride and admiration, nodded. “Yeah, something’s off. Stay sharp.”

The rustling grew louder, and soon, figures emerged from the shadows. Nightshade warriors, led by Elara, Gaia, Kevin, and Ragnar, stepped into the clearing. Their eyes were filled with mali