The war council chamber stank of sweat, blood, and fear. Maps littered the long table, dotted with markers where supply lines had been cut, villages raided, and skirmishes lost or won. Torches burned low, their flames painting the stone walls in restless shadows.
Kael stood at the head, arms braced on the table, golden eyes burning with an intensity that silenced every whisper. His voice was a growl that filled the chamber, hard and absolute.
“My answer to Lucien is no.”
Gasps rippled through the council. Elder Bran slammed his staff against the ground, his weathered face lined with shock. “Alpha—think carefully! He offers peace! The boy has already proven he can hold his ground against us. If his alliance with the Ravencroft wolves strengthens, our losses will mount—”
Kael’s hand slas
