Abilities

…Freya pov….

The chaos of the battle grew, reaching a crescendo that echoed through the depths of the forest. With each passing moment, Rowland's wounds multiplied, the crimson stain on his fur spreading like a haunting tapestry of pain. The initial satisfaction I had felt melted away, replaced by a deepening worry that nestled within my heart.

As I watched Rowland fight on, his movements grew labored, his once-mighty frame burdened by the weight of his injuries. The sharp pang of sympathy pierced through the remnants of my earlier satisfaction, chipping away at the callousness that had clouded my judgment. It was at that moment that I truly understood the gravity of the situation.

The pain etched across Rowland's face mirrored the torment that now consumed my own spirit. It was no longer a matter of reveling in his suffering, but a shared understanding of the sacrifices he had made and the burdens he carried. The sight of his battered form filled me with a deep ache, a longing to eas