The great palace of RuthValis shimmered like molten gold in the daylight.
Every pillar was carved with wolves mid-howl, and the scent of incense wound through the air — rosemary, smoke, and something ancient.
At the heart of it all sat Alpha Ortiz Ortega, the Supreme Alpha of the Twelve Houses, his silver robes trailing across the marble as he leaned against the edge of the throne dais.
The man’s eyes, molten gold under lamplight, flickered between patience and exhaustion.
Beside him, Lisa Ortega stood near the wide glass doors that opened to the balcony. The night winds toyed with her hair as she clasped her hands tightly together, her face pale.
“I saw it again,” Lisa whispered, voice trembling. “The same dream, Father. Only this time… there were banners. Red banners and women, risi
