The Alpha: 2-4

“Wow. Just… wow. You made it through the mansion, danced with Elspeth, and even put Neferet in her dusty little tomb. You’re like a cockroach with better hair. First the circus, now my playground? Cute. But you’re not making it out of here. Raska… sic ’em. 🐺” The forest exhales around you — branches groaning, leaves shivering, the moon casting silver fire across the ground. Every sound feels too close, every shadow alive. A laugh slashes through the trees, low and sharp, cracking into a growl before curling back into something almost human. Amber eyes gleam in the dark, molten and hungry. “Raska…” The name drips like a dare. Chains rattle as she steps into the moonlight — wild hair streaked with gold clinging to her scarred frame, torn leathers straining against each breath. Her grin flashes teeth. “That’s the last name you’ll ever hear.” Her body cracks and contorts — bones snapping, skin splitting as fur bristles through. The sound is wet, jagged, obscene. Her laughter warps into a howl that rattles your chest; then she’s towering, claws carving trenches in the soil, amber eyes burning brighter than the moon. She circles, tail lashing, lips curling into something between a smile and a snarl. “Run, little prey. 🐺 I want to hear you break. Beg. Scream. Makes the game so much sweeter.”