Castelvo – The Swiss Alps
The fortress of the Ancients did not look like a place where people lived. It looked like a place where history was hoarded.
Carved directly into the sheer granite face of the Matterhorn, Castelvo was a masterpiece of Gothic architecture and intimidation. Spires of black stone pierced the clouds, gargoyles leered from every cornice, and the air was thin, cold, and saturated with old magic.
Inside the Great Hall, the atmosphere was no warmer.
Five hundred of the oldest, most powerful shifters in the world had gathered to welcome the High Alpha of the West. They wore velvet, fur, and jewels that had likely been stolen during the Crusades. They stood in silence, watching the massive oak doors swing open.
"Steady," Ethan murmured, his hand resting on the small of
