The ground trembled beneath Ronan’s feet as he stood at the head of his warriors, the air thick with tension and the scent of impending battle. The Blood Moon’s eerie crimson glow stretched across the sky, casting elongated shadows over the gathered wolves. Before him, a sprawling force of allies had assembled, Stormborn warriors, rebels from Blackthorne’s ranks, and independent packs who had chosen to resist Gideon’s madness.
They stood united, but uneasy. The weight of what was to come pressed down on all of them. They knew this battle would not be about pride or territory, it was about survival.
“The time has come,” Ronan called out, his voice carrying across the battlefield. “We stand here as more than warriors. We stand as free wolves, against a tyrant who would see us broken.” His
