*Greenwood — The King's Glade, Night*
Silver beams of moonlight poured through the canopy. Moss draped over roots as thick as walls.
Ryder stood at the center, his broad frame straight and steady, but his golden eyes tracked every shadow.
Wolves whispered that the Greenwood King had ruled longer than they could think of, a relic of the old bloodlines. Ryder knew better than to take whispers lightly.
The forest stayed close to him. This was no ordinary clearing. Aiden, stirred, uneasy but alert.
Silence fell as the King emerged.
He moved with a grace that belied his age… tall, shoulders draped in a mantle woven of leaves and silver threaded fur. His hair was white as bone, his beard trimmed short, but his eyes were bright.
They carried the weight of time and something feral.
“Ryder
