The Wolves' Deceit

The air in Purgatory was thick with tension as Annie, Lilith, and the other witches moved cautiously through the desolate landscape.

 The ever-present crimson glow of the realm cast eerie shadows across the barren land, making every movement seem more ominous. 

They were deep in enemy territory now, and though their mission was one of diplomacy, the weight of past betrayals made every step feel like a battle waiting to happen.

Unbeknownst to them, Menma followed at a safe distance, his sharp eyes locked on the group. He wasn't one for careful planning, but something about this mission unsettled him. The way Annie had spoken about Lyra. —something was wrong, and he was determined to figure out what.

Ahead, the witches reached a vast, jagged rock formation that marked the entrance to the werewolf den. It was a place of power, carved into the very essence of Purgatory itself, its walls pulsing faintly as if alive. 

Just as Annie stepped forward to call for Lyra, three werewolves emerged from the darkness, blocking their path. Their eyes gleamed with an unnatural hunger, their bodies tense with barely restrained aggression.

Annie's gaze hardened. "We're here to see Lyra."

The werewolf in the center, a tall, battle-worn figure with dark fur and a scar across his face, let out a low growl. "She's not here."

Lilith's sharp eyes narrowed. "That's a lie."

The three werewolves shifted, their forms rigid with silent malice. Their leader, Zarrek, stepped forward. "Lyra's not available," he growled, his voice low and guttural. "And you witches should leave."

The second werewolf, a hulking brute with silver eyes named Torak, cracked his knuckles. His presence was almost suffocating, his body built like a wall of muscle and fury. "You think we'll let you walk into our den without consequences?"

The third, a leaner werewolf with dark fur and a cruel smile, introduced himself with a sneer. "I'm Khorin, and I suggest you turn back. Or this conversation won't end well for you."

Annie didn't flinch. "I don't give a damn about your threats. I want to speak to Lyra."

A tense silence hung in the air before Torak's low chuckle broke it. "You're wasting your time, witch."

Lilith's lips curled into a barely perceptible smile. "Then we'll make time."

But the werewolves stood their ground, and as Annie's patience began to run thin, the tension in the air only thickened. Something was off about their behavior—something rehearsed, controlled. And that meant only one thing.

Lyra was dead!

( 2 weeks ago)

Deep within the werewolf den, Lyra stood before her pack, her expression weary but firm. "The witches are not our enemies," she declared. "They have shown us kindness, and in return, I have given them my trust."

The gathered werewolves did not share her sentiment. Murmurs of dissent spread like wildfire.

"You are weak, Lyra," one of them spat. "You bow to witches instead of leading us as a true alpha should."

Another stepped forward, his voice laced with venom. "We've had enough of this. You think you can change centuries of hatred overnight? You are a disgrace to our kind."

Lyra met their glares with unwavering defiance. "I do not fear your threats."

A deep chuckle echoed from the back of the chamber. From the shadows, figures emerged—cloaked in darkness, their faces obscured. They carried an aura of something far more sinister than any werewolf in the room.

Lyra's eyes darkened. "You brought outsiders into our den?"

The scarred werewolf, now standing beside the newcomers, sneered. "We did what needed to be done. And now, Lyra, your reign ends."

Before she could react, 

She was turned upside down...

She was in shock, saying in her mind "that this must be a ' creation".

the wolves wasted no time and lunged, their forms shifting into monstrous, snarling beasts. They tore through the air, their claws raking against Lyra's skin, their fangs dripping with venomous malice. 

Lyra fought back with the strength of an alpha, but the numbers and the shadowy men's ' creations ' left her with no chance.

(Present)

Back at the den's entrance, Annie could sense it before it happened—the subtle shift in the ground beneath her feet, the unnatural stillness of the werewolves.

"Move!" she shouted, her voice cutting through the air.

But it was too late.

The ground beneath the witches gave way, opening into a cavernous pit lined with jagged rock and thick roots that coiled like living chains. 

Lilith and the other witches barely had time to react before they were pulled down, disappearing into the darkness below.

Annie alone remained standing, the force of the trap having torn the ground beneath the others. A guttural laugh echoed from above, thinking that they managed to kill them all .

"You walked right into it," Torak mocked from above.

Below, the witches landed hard, but they wasted no time recovering. The cavern was filled with waiting werewolves, their eyes glowing in the dim light. Snarls and growls filled the air as the battle erupted.

Lilith pulled a potion from her belt, popping the cork and inhaling the vapor. Her senses sharpened instantly, and she moved with newfound clarity.With her senses heightened, she cut through the nearest werewolf with surgical precision.

She drew her sword—a sleek, curved blade with a hilt wrapped in black leather, its edge shimmering with a faint violet hue. The blade was both beautiful and deadly, crafted for precision rather than brute force. 

She lashed out, cutting through the nearest werewolf with surgical efficiency. Her senses, heightened by the potion, allowed her to predict the wolves' every move.

Annie asked the wolves "if they were the ones that killed her family?"

"Yes we did" said the wolves as they licked their teeth " they were so yummy to eat" said a wolf from the back...

Then, with a grin that could rival the fiercest of predators, she activated her ' creation ' , her stance relaxed but ready.

WITCH CREATION// LIGHT OF THE ONE 

As yellow light particles surrounded her hands and created a light sword .

"You wanted to fight, huh?" she murmured to herself as she cut down the first werewolf that came at her with a swift, brutal strike. "Let's see how long you last."

Meanwhile, Lilith and the witches battled fiercely, spells and blades clashing against claws and teeth. Blood painted the cavern floor as bodies fell, but the werewolves were relentless, swarming them like beasts driven by something greater than instinct.

"Stay close!" Lilith shouted to the others, her voice calm amidst the chaos. She threw some damage potions at them , each spell a calculated strike aimed to kill them.

As Lilith fought, she noticed that only one of the three werewolves remained above—Zarrek .

Annie Faces the Scarred Wolf

Above, Annie faced Zarrek alone.

"You should have left when you had the chance," he taunted, his grin wide and full of malice.

Annie's eyes narrowed, her voice low and mocking. "You really think I'm scared of you?"

Zarrek laughed, a harsh, rumbling sound. "I think you should be."

Annie's blade flashed in the dim light as she advanced. She moved with ruthless precision, striking with a speed that matched the wolf's own ferocity. But the scarred werewolf was fast, too, and he met her blow with a savage growl.

"You're strong for a witch," he grunted, his claws raking the air. "But not strong enough."

Annie grinned. "We'll see about that."

Menma's fists clenched as he watched the fight unfold. A fire burned inside him, but he wasn't sure if he should intervene yet—his gut told him something was off.

The moment Khorin blocked his path " You are not going anywhere kid" , all doubt disappeared. 'Finally,' Menma muttered, cracking his neck as he stepped forward.

And with that, the battle continued—both above and below—each side fighting for control, and each knowing that only one would emerge victorious!