Then Mona's voice rang out again—smooth, deliberate, but now carrying a deeper current. One that tugged at something old and hidden.
"Nyxara is from a species of white tigress that once populated the western region of North America."
Alex blinked in disbelief. North America?. His gaze instinctively flicked to Nyxara, perched silently on his shoulder.
She was still, but he could feel it—the subtle tension in her muscles, the way her claws pressed down ever so slightly, not in aggression, but in alertness.
Her ears twitched, adjusting to the sound of Mona's voice, like a radio tuning to a frequency she didn't realize she'd forgotten.
It all commenced with the first surge of mana awakening, a time when the fabric of reality began to unravel.
In this tumultuous era, a group of majestic white tigers emerged, their striking coats shimmering like freshly fallen snow under the dappled sunlight.
