As the celestial orb climbed towards its zenith, the Cysgodol encampment thrummed with a disquieting energy that set every shadow alive with unseen watchers. An eerie crimson tint, like a baleful omen, washed over the forest clearing where the dark creatures assembled.
Zythrax, the wolf-prince whose very name inspired terror in the hearts of mortals, lifted his massive head toward the blood-red moon. His haunting howl pierced the night air, a sound that spoke of ancient magic and primal hunger. Even the hardened wardens, posted like stone sentinels around the perimeter, felt their souls quiver as the beast-prince's lieutenants joined his call with a discordant chorus of hair-raising howls and snarls.
Malicious rituals and profane rites were taking place around the main campfire under the
