The air itself carried weight that morning.
The fortress trembled with anticipation, and even the birds seemed to sense it, their wings scattering wildly across the sky, their cries loud and restless. It wasn’t an ordinary day. It was the tournament day.
From every corner of Lucien’s rule, contestants had gathered, warriors from distant packs, clans hardened by blood, and champions whose scars were stories. In their midst stood Anana, her war outfit plain but neatly fitted, her hair loosely braided to the back of her head. Compared to the others, she looked almost fragile, her slender figure a stark contrast to their towering, battle-seasoned frames.
The laughter started small but spread like fire.
“What is a princess doing in a place like this?” one sneered, voice dripping with ridicu
