The morning after the Iron Frost broke, the Great Hall of Nightfall felt different.
It wasn't just the warmth of the roaring hearth or the smell of fresh pine and baking bread. There was an electric, vibrating energy in the air. The pack had survived the impossible, and their Alpha had returned from the ice. But as Rowan stood at the head of the massive oak table, holding Aria’s hand, the wolves sensed that something even greater was about to happen.
The low chatter of the morning meal faded into absolute silence as Rowan raised his hand.
"My wolves," Rowan’s voice resonated through the hall, deep and commanding, yet laced with an undeniable, heavy pride. "Winter has tested us. The mountain tried to break us. The High Council tried to divide us. And yet, we stand."
A low murmur of agre
