Chapter 64 | Ruins of Lycaon

The familiar humid breeze enveloped my nostrils and skin. But it was clashing, it was heavy, like the island was holding its breath. The sky wasn't blue anymore, but filled with dark tones, the sea reflected it, and the waves crashed harder against the jagged rocks in restless defiance. The grass which was used to be tended, now wild, unchecked, swaying aggressively in the rising wind. The coast had changed—it felt… untamed.

And then there was the crowd.

Elara stood in the middle of the field, her spear gripped tightly in one hand, her scales catching the muted light as she pivoted, sharp and deliberate. She was not moving in her spot, a warning I learned in a hard way as she thinks how to strategically kill her prey. Her piercing eyes stayed fixed on a figure behind her.