Bond of Shadows

Blood dripped down the steps of the throne, dark as oil, sticky where it met the stone. The Alpha King leaned back, one hand cradling the shallow iron chalice, the other resting lazily on the arm of his seat. His lips were red, wet, glistening. The wolf at his feet twitched once more, a final shudder, then stilled. The King drank. The sound of it-soft, deliberate - carried through the chamber. Around him, the council watched in silence, their faces masks of obedience. No one spoke of the smell, the sharp, metallic sweetness that filled the air. No one dared. “Strength,” the King murmured, tongue dragging across his teeth. For a heartbeat, they seemed too sharp, too long, before his smile softened the edges. “Strength is never wasted. It passes on.” He gestured, and servants hurried to drag the carcass away. Blood streaked across the tiles in their wake. Beyond the throne, shadows clung to the walls where the enforcers stood motionless in their blackened armor, their helms sealing away every trace of humanity. The air shifted wrong around them, hollow, as if something else looked out through the slits in their visors. “Tomorrow, the heirs will come,” the King said, eyes glinting like steel in firelight. “The Trials will begin. We will see which packs breed strength… and which ones feed it.” He raised the chalice once more, red spilling over his mouth. “Blood strengthens blood.” And the darkness whispered back.