Twilight’s crimson glow painted the Stormborn horizon, turning trees and watchtowers into jagged silhouettes. The once-proud fortress now teetered on the brink of collapse—fires smoldered in distant courtyards, and tattered banners drooped in the thick air. The Crimson Eclipse above pulsed with a fey intensity, as though each heartbeat brought the world closer to rupture.
From the east, a procession of alpha councils arrived in a disjointed caravan. Their journey had been plagued by rogue assaults and ominous signs—bodies left strewn along roads, farmsteads emptied overnight. Now, they stood at the fortress gates, grimly surveying the c*****e that greeted them.
Among them, Alpha Eskar of Silver Ridge stared, wide-eyed, at the wounded wolves trudging through the muddy courtyard, while Bet
