The central reception hall of the Blackwood Citadel was silent save for the crackle of pine logs in the grand hearth. Sunlight filtered through high, arched stained-glass windows, casting long crimson and violet shadows across the polished granite floor.
Alpha Valen sat upon his dark carved throne, his massive frame draped in his heavy black wool mantle. His broad arm rested over the carved wooden armrest, his amber eyes burning with an intense, watchful predatory stillness. Beside him, in a throne carved of matching dark ironwood and padded with deep burgundy velvet, sat Nora. She wore a high-collared dress of dark slate-blue, her hair half-braided with carved silver combs, her posture straight, composed, and effortlessly regal.
At the base of the dais stood Gamma Torin and six vanguard
