The victory at the altar of the Moon should have felt like a finality, a moment to breathe and finally look into the eyes of my sons without the shadow of a threat looming over them. But as the dawn light hit the blood-stained white stone, the arrival of the Northern messenger turned the morning air from crisp to suffocating.
He was a man named Valen, a high-ranking Lycan I remembered from my early days in the North. He stood at the edge of the plateau, his silver-and-grey armour pristine despite the long trek. He didn't kneel. He didn't acknowledge the fallen Alphas or the thousands of pack members who were still reeling from the display of power they had just witnessed. He looked only at me, his eyes a dull, mechanical grey.
"Queen Elara," Valen said, his voice amplified by a subtle ma
