Tension buzzed through the Stormborn council chamber like static in the air before a lightning strike. Representatives from allied packs ringed the broad, oaken table, each wearing an expression of mounting unease. Ronan stood at the head, his presence commanding, yet even he could not dispel the restless undercurrent that gnawed at their unity.
Aria slouched in her designated seat, arms folded tight across her chest. She cast a lone, brooding figure among wolves who had once lauded her potential. Now she felt their eyes flickering over her with equal measures of caution and expectation. The events of the last few days hung between them, the savage encounter with the cursed creature, the revelations of more abominations stalking the mountains, and the faint stench of old magic clinging to
