The Hall of Kings stood proudly atop the mountain, illuminated by the fading glow of the setting sun.
For centuries, it had been the symbol of unity among the werewolf kingdoms.
Today...
It looked like a fortress preparing for the end of the world.
Its towering white walls bore fresh scars from battle.
Several banners hung torn and stained with blood.
Smoke curled lazily into the evening sky from shattered watchtowers.
The massive bronze gates remained open, yet not a single guard stood outside to welcome the arriving delegation.
An eerie silence blanketed the valley.
Even the horses refused to move.
Marcus tightened his grip on the reins.
"I don't like this."
Kael's sharp eyes swept across the walls.
"No archers."
"No sentries."
"No patrols."
Lucian frowned.
"That's exact
