10

As Lunara's rage consumed her, it transformed into something primal, something ancient. She felt her blood boiling, pulsating with an energy that was not entirely her own, a force that surged from the depths of her being. The sensation was intoxicating, almost liberating, as if the very essence of her clan's warriors flowed through her veins, rekindling the spirit of those who had fought before her.

In this tumultuous state, her consciousness flickered, and she felt herself slipping into darkness. The pain of betrayal and the weight of her situation pulled her down, but even as her vision faded, the anger remained—a fiery beacon that would not be extinguished. Her body moved on instinct, driven by an overwhelming desire for retribution.

As she pounced toward her betrayer, her movements were swift and feral, each stride fueled by a relentless bloodlust. The world around her blurred, and she became a creature of pure instinct, a beast unleashed. The man before her remained oblivious to the storm brewing within her, his arrogance blinding him to the true depth of her fury.

What he failed to understand was that Lunara's return was not merely for revenge; it was also for her mother, whose memory had guided her through the darkest of times. Her mother had been a beacon of strength, and the thought of avenging her loss ignited a fire within Lunara that could not be quenched.

As she lunged at him, muscles coiling like a spring, she embodied the wrath of her ancestors, the determination of her mother. Every ounce of pain she had suffered, every moment of betrayal, coalesced into a singular purpose: to make him pay for what he had done.

The time for reckoning had arrived, and she would ensure that he would not escape the consequences of his treachery.