(Author’s POV)
"Myra Miracle, you have served your purpose here. It is time to hit your ending, my dear friend." Aamon’s smirk was chilling her to the bone. In a voice that didn’t sound human anymore, he thundered, "Go die with those rabid dogs~~ ... you filthy mutt human. You .... belong with each other. GO DIEEEE .... BURN WITH THEM. BURNNNNNNNNN~~~~~~~~~...." His eyes turned Venta.
Hearing his words, Myra’s face turned all pallid, her hazel eyes widened in pure terror as fear choked the breath out of her.
Aamon took a long sniff of the air as if he was sensing the victory. He could already see the finish line, and his smirk grew even wider, almost reaching his eyes.
Then, without a second thought, he hurled her back with brutal strength with his tail, followed by the blazing fireball made up of hellfire.
Myra let out an ear piercing, guttural scream, "AAAAAAaaaaaaa," as she went flying, careening backwards, blood still dripping down her wrist, onto the palm, like a broken faucet.
The Lycan brothers bellowed her name, with obvious fright in their eyes, "MYRAAAAA~~~~~ ...." Their wolves yowled, caterwauling in sheer madness, their primal instincts shattered by the horror of losing her, "MATEEEEEE~~~~~ .... NOOOOO~~~~"
"AAMON, WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?" Elisa shouted, clearly furious. "She has the golden~ ..."
"Relax, my dear queen," before she could finish, Aamon pulled her into a tight, suffocating embrace as he continued, "I have already got what you wanted from that little pest." He showed his blood coated tail, slowly wiggling it in front of her. It was holding a small, round, glass flask. "It’s her unadulterated ichor. You can drink it now." Elisa’s eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second, then she quickly took the tiny vial and uncorked it. The scent hit her as she sneered, thinking, ’Let’s drink this first, then I will deal with Aamon and straighten him up real good for his disobedience.’
But as she tilted her head back to gulp it down~ .... something peculiar transpired.
The air went completely still, and so did she. Her movement stopped; the crimson liquid that had gotten out of the bottle froze midway, hanging in the air. The hair on her skin tingled, frosting. Both Elisa and Aamon were overcome with an immediate sense of anomaly.
Shifting his gaze, Aamon looked in the direction where he had thrown Myra, and what he saw made his feet turn cold. His eyes bulged in total disbelief.
Myra wasn’t on the ground. This time, she hadn’t even touched it. She was levitating in the air, her eyes closed, floating upwards. The blood seeping out of her wrist wasn’t just falling right at the centre of the four high level demon circles; it was swimming around like a hospital drip, in four different directions, aiming for the Lycan Alphas.
Now corrupted, the rune stones forming the demon circles flickered like candle flames in a windy storm. Even the air, which was filled with toxicity, had been replaced by powerful mixed scents of Sandalwood, Musk, Cardamom, Patchouli and Cedarwood- the pheromones of the Lycan brothers. But the one preceding all of them was the fragrance of Orange Jasmine~ .... it was so overwhelming to even breathe properly. It was not just any scent~ ... it was the smell of trouble, and Aamon knew it well.

Desperation crept into him. "What is even this? No~ ... no, no, NO~~ ... this can’t be happening," scrunching his face into an ugly, monstrous scowl, he unclasped his fisted hands, and there appeared a piece of parchment on which a dark purplish black powdered substance was placed.

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