Got my work cut out for me with this one. The man scoffed, eyes glimmering with a lethal light. Long has it been since the man engaged in combat, longer was it still that he had to fight a swarm. Even so, Wraith never forgot his roots. Where he came from, his pain, his struggles— the fight to survive. If the man had a smoke he would have taken one last long drag of the end. Unfortunately, he knew such luxuries were behind him now. Now all he could do was spit and bare his teeth in disgust.

Dishonorable were those that attacked the weak, the helpless. Dishonorable still was it to disturb the dead. An intervention was to be at hand and Wraith was certainly the kind of man to deliver it. He could only hope that Rhythm would be safe in all of this mess— whichever path he chose to take if he even took one at all. But now wasn’t the time to dwell, now was the time to act. The time to strike.

A once pleasant facade melts away as the white wolf’s demeanor shifted to something far more dark and sinister. How his expression morphs into that of a killer, eyes wild, teeth flashing with every snap and bite of jaws around his oppressors. The ghosts had to be stopped, no matter the price he had to pay for it.