Ivan
"The famous Ivan the contemptible!" The second we're near the secret door of our cells, I come face to face with a man almost as tall as I am. He looked like a man who'd seen more battles than I had, but somehow he was unmarked by any of it. "What an honor it is to meet the King of swords."
What the fuck did he say? The King of swords? Was that from a game? I've heard that before, but I can't remember from where. It doesn't matter. I don't want to play around. Chagan growls at him, pacing back and forth in front of the man.
I'd feared I wouldn't be able to shift into my wolf after what happened with Fenrir, but that hadn't been a problem. On the contrary, it'd been easier. The pain was hardly there, and it'd happened in five seconds. Strangely, Fenrir was still aware in my mind. He wasn't speaking, but I didn't feel the violent, feral instinct from him anymore. However, he was still affecting me. My fangs were dripping a thick liquid that could only be poison.
