Snow crunched beneath Kael's boots.
Wolfspire Keep rose ahead—dark stone against the pale morning sky. Its towers were weatherworn, its banners unfamiliar: a silver wolf howling at dawn.
The symbol of the Moonborn.
He dismounted slowly, alone. No guards. No entourage.
Just the weight of guilt on his back.
A pair of sentries spotted him. One drew a blade.
The other—a younger wolf—hesitated. “He's unarmed."
Kael raised his hands. “I'm not here to fight."
They exchanged a glance, then stepped aside. “You'll find her in the war room."
Kael walked through the keep's ancient corridors, past candlelit chambers and rows of whispering soldiers. He saw Omegas training beside Betas. Saw boys barely grown cleaning weapons beside grizzled exiles. No ranks. Just resolve.
At the heart of it all
