Chapter 344

The creature Marinella rode was ancient, its presence exuding a stench that blended the rot of a mass grave with the stale mustiness of an attic long forgotten. One glance at the beast was enough to make my stomach churn, every instinct screaming for me to flee. Its sleek body glistened under the sunlight, its short fur shimmering like liquid darkness. A jagged maw jutted out from its head, lined with twin rows of razor-sharp teeth, each one poised to tear flesh. Its whip-like tongue, unnervingly thin and impossibly long, lashed out at anything in its path—Fae and werewolf alike, friend or foe.