The Last Howl
He simply stepped back to the perimeter of the pit, crossing his arms over his broad chest, his piercing silver eyes tracking my every movement like an apex predator evaluating a test subject.
Across the Colosseum, partially obscured by the flickering torchlight, Denzel Darkmoor leaned silently against a stone pillar. His dark eyes were fixed entirely on me, his hands buried deep in his coat pockets where my mother's silver locket rested.
I was completely on my own.
"Begin!" Hawthorne shouted, bringing his arm down in a sharp, swift arc.
Before the professor’s hand even hit his side, Susan moved. She didn't hesitate or test my range; she charged with terrifying shifter speed, a blur of motio