The morning sun broke over Ironclad Citadel not with warmth, but with a cold, blinding glare that reflected off the snow-capped spires of Mount Sovereign.
Inside the high strategy chamber, the air was thick with tension. The formal parchment decree lay open on the long oak table, its gold and crimson wax seals glistening under the high arched windows.
It bore the official mark of the Regional Council of Alphas—the governing body composed of the seven oldest pack leaders on the continent. By declaring Crescent Moon a vassal territory under the Council's temporary protection, Julian had effectively surrendered his pack's sovereignty in exchange for immediate legal immunity and political leverage.
High Commander Vance stood beside the table, his arms crossed over his leather chest plate, h
