CHAPTER 50 — Empty Room
The grand audience hall of Aethelgard was a theater of breathtaking, suffocating majesty on the first official day of the council. High stone pillars wrapped in the royal gold-and-crimson banners of the crown stretched toward a vaulted ceiling that echoed with the low, rumbling baritones of a hundred alpha lords. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats, heavy spiced wines, and a chaotic, conflicting web of dominant wolf auras. Every border lord, warlord, and regional Alpha of the Dominion was packed into the chamber, dressed in their finest ceremonial furs and polished steel, waiting to be formally presented to the throne.
Seated upon the massive dais, King Damian looked down at the assembly with a face carved from absolute marble. Outwardly, he was the
