Razorclaw's heart seized with terror as he whipped his head around—only to see two twisted, grinning faces staring straight at him.
Wraithshade.
His face was a mask of malice, eyes gleaming with murderous intent.
"You… it's you?!" Razorclaw's pupils shrank, his expression frozen in disbelief, like he'd just seen a ghost.
"That's right," Wraithshade sneered, his grin stretching wider, more grotesque. "I'm back."
Before Razorclaw could react, a wave of psychic energy surged from Wraithshade, slamming into his mind like a black spear.
Agony exploded in Razorclaw's skull, like boiling oil had been poured directly into his brain. But what truly terrified him was what came next—his body stopped responding.
His limbs locked up. His muscles twitched uncontrollably.
And then, to his horror, his own mouth curled into a twisted grin—Wraithshade's grin. It was like watching a puppet smile with someone else's face.
