Three nights.
The same dream.
Alpha Darius could no longer dismiss it.
The first night, he blamed exhaustion.
The second, he called it coincidence.
But after the third...
Even the ruler of the greatest territory alive refused to deceive himself.
Before dawn had fully broken, the great Pack Horns echoed across Red Claw.
Their solemn cry rolled through every district, every training ground and every corridor of the Royal Pack House.
It was neither a call to war...
Nor a celebration.
It was a summons.
Every elder.
Every dream interpreter.
Every shaman priest.
Every spiritual adviser of Red Claw was commanded to assemble inside the Council Hall.
By sunrise, the hall was filled.
No one spoke above a whisper.
The uneasiness in the room was unlike anything they had witnessed in
