The ground split open, cracks racing across the land in every direction. Trees withered in seconds, their leaves turning black before falling away as ash.
The grass burned down to nothing, leaving scorched soil behind. The world was dying and every magic it was blessed with was forcefully stripped away from it.
'No.' I wanted to scream out, but my voice betrayed me. This scene… Princess Anastasia. I knew deep down my time had come.
The werewolves, both from the Bloodshade pack, the rogues, and from the Bloodmoon pack, all dropped mid-fight, howling in pain as magic was ripped from their bodies. It was like their soul was away, their very wolf.
They forcefully transformed back into their human form.
The witches screamed as their spells shattered in their hands, their power dragged violently toward the orb like it was a magnet. They screamed in pain, yet they could not resist it. Both corrupted witches and the good ones.
